The Misadventures of Soldier: 76
by Guardian of Runeterra
Summary: I do not own Overwatch or the setting and characters. Soldier 76-Centric. It has been a year now. It is difficult to wield a gun with only one good eye. The soldier has not given up his mission, but it would be proven difficult, and he knows it. Follow Soldier 76, and see how he fares in the wake of an escalating catastrophe, and witness.
1. Chapter 1

There's a thing about last stands. No time practicing for one. I mean, which point of your life did you have to hold your ground in a sinking ship/island, low on ammo and surrounded by a pack of Securitrons +1+? None? Lucky bastards, all of you.

What? Did I asked for a bunch of hackers peppering on every way I ran? I knew scouting this area out would be asking for trouble, but I never expected these assholes tailing me. What did I do to them? Stole their coin account?

I could hear their threads rolling behind me, and the map on my visor helps. These corridors are tight and old. All their lights failed to do their purpose, which serves me just fine. Slamming my back against the wall, I surveyed my surrounding and saw one fluorescent bulb still flickering, so I helped it out by throwing an empty mag on it.

Now that the whole shebang's all dark and dank, I bet it's going to give these frat boys a hell of a situation. Slapping another magazine in, I tried assessing the situation. My scanner sings a sad tune, mostly to me. Even if a bullet could neutralize each one, there still too many roaming around the complex. That reminds me; I jumped up and climbed between the walls and into the ceiling, pushing my feet against them as another group of bots rolled under me. These guys sure are determined.

I kept my rifle aim downrange, and then I noticed a whirring somewhere. It was on my level for sure, so I swiveled my head as I kept my gun pointed at the general direction of the group. Sure enough, with the aid of my visor, I saw a camera panning right beside my head. It's a shame that the pic would be pitch black, because I always loved a good bot bloodbath.

Should I wave at the poor guy to be sure? Maybe bash it a little bit? I just shrugged and focused on the already passing wave of robots. Besides, I wouldn't like to be recorded waving. People already have those bad impressions on me, and I don't like the sound of Soldier 76 having fun being chased around by killer drones. I don't even know if the return feed would produce that kind of quality.

Another explosion rang out. I knew that wasn't me, or the hackers. Once an Omnic +2+ strongpoint in the Pacific, FOB—298 used to house tens and thousands of VTOLs (Vertical Take Off and Landing) ready to wreak havoc on the western seaboard. Officially, it's an aircraft carrier, but the size of the damn thing, like a dozen Titanics, made it wonder on how it can move at all. Now, it lies dormant when the Omnic Crisis ended, an island now, basically, it became the safe haven for the robot men to call home. That is, until a warning from Talon came along.

'Leave the island or face the consequences,' they said. 'The safety of humanity would not be secured until the island is sunk.' Which translates to me, 'There's nothing we couldn't get from gunpoint!'

If these kleptomaniacs gets a hand of at least a handful of the VTOLs here, the ones that works, by the way, the devastation would be unimaginable. Then who are these bozos chasing after me right now? Apparently, they want to fight the good fight by hacking half the Securitrons and surveillance in this level and try to bag a kill. Emphasis on 'want to be'.

How did I know they're hackers from across the globe and not the local security, or Talon themselves? That's because I could hear their chatter, and I'm sure coordination is not on top of their priority. With that information at hand, I could safely drop down, knowing that they're past the sense of teamwork. I hurried my way back to the engine room, turning down the volume and keeping my ears open for any mean surprises.

I stopped behind another corridor as more them came rolling through the wet floor. Did I mention the ship's sinking? Maybe I forgot to tell you that the walls looked and felt a bit tilted. It's listing to one side, but it wouldn't compromise the mission success. At least, not yet. Problem lies on where the water is coming from, and that's a thought worth noting.

As far as my guts are concerned, I'm willing to bet the place that needs plugging is at the engine room. I don't know the exact time of the explosion, only that it happened and a lot of Omnics got themselves killed, and even more from drowning, or drowning in their sense. I wasn't there when it happened, but I'm sure as hell that I'm going to keep it from getting worse.

Arriving at the scene of the fire, it was just as I expected to be. It's the size a hangar and twice as hot. Sparks were flying from the wires and flames from the engine core are melting everything around it. There's also the pervasive bursting pillar of water from the floodgate across the room. It would've been small before, but like dam, it's about to get bigger. Sighing, it was time for me to be the fireman.

I started to walk across the railings, avoiding getting electrocuted by the water and screamed, "Is there anyone out there?! Shout if you need any help!" I waited for the reply that never came.

My visor continued scanning for anyone and only found pieces of them underwater. Keeping my eyes forward, I carefully walked to my destination like balancing on a tightrope. Reaching the emergency flood switch, I swiveled my head one last time at the room. If I pulled this switch down, the water would be contained in the area, also possibly trapping me since it's going to shut off my last exit if I don't hurry.

Satisfied that I'm the only one alive, I brought down the lever. The whirring in the room was deafening, and it would only be at a matter of moments before it ends. I sprinted towards the already shutting door, still on perfect balance the whole way, which is until my scanner notified me.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," I said under my breath.

I looked toward the water, and my visor colored the pinned down Omnic just a stone throw away. One of its threads was smashed to pieces and the other is desperately spinning to get out of the fallen debris. I could've easily left him/her there. I could've just walked away and find the assholes who did this mess. I knew there was no time for me and it to get out of here alive. It would've been so easy. Yet, I'm now electrocuting myself by diving into the knee-deep water.

"H-hold on! I'm c-c-c-coming!" I have to reassure it, tell it everything's fine.

" !#%&%! &#%! #" beeped the Omnic. My translator couldn't catch what it's saying, and I don't know if they upgraded from the binary lingua. But it's more than enough to say that it needs help.

Amps upon amps is coursing through my body, but I suffered worse. Upon reaching the Omnic, I assessed the damage. One of its claws was left hanging while the other is trying to push the huge pile of concrete. I tried helping, but only an industrial crane could hope this poor bastard. I knew it wouldn't be long before it gets hopeless.

I looked at him eye to camera and said, "Sorry for this." I lifted my rifle. "You got insurance, r-right?."

Its head was already shaking in denial on what I'm about to do, but I've already done it. I smashed the joint from the damage leg and smashed it I did. The Omnic was cursing for what I'm doing to it, and I wouldn't blame it. After I got that problem out of the way, I grabbed one of its mechanincal arms and started hobbling to the exit, which unfortunately, closed.

Now trapped inside a rapidly degrading situation, and the ever-rising water, with a thousand volts up my ass, it was time for Plan B. A very improvised Plan B. "Cover y-your speakers," I told the robot and lifted my gun with one hand. It might get us killed, but this might be my last chance. I fired a Helix Rocket into the currently bursting floodgate and let the water wash in.

Oh, don't worry. This mask of mine has an built-in rebreather on it, because it's something of a must have when getting on a ship. That said I wouldn't worry about my friend here, seeing that a lack of oxygen is just a-okay with it. I just have to wait until it's safe to swim from here to the next area and exit through the source of the explosion. You might be asking why I haven't thought to be my first escape plan in the first place. Now that the engine room is completely flooded, if you're in my position, you might see and feel why.

Lights blurred all over my vision and the water is more than enough to dilute the electricity. And then slowly, the last air bubbles disappeared. I dragged my partner out into the hole I made. I dragged through the dark corridors, and it felt like swimming in syrup. Plus, I have an obvious anchor with me. Into the next room, I saw a black crater. It would've been no doubt that this is where the bomb set off, or the engine self-destructed. The damage was small compared to the titanic island, but it had been more than enough to do the job.

Veering my sights, I could see a hole leading to infinite darkness, outside. We hobbled toward the edge of it and saw only nothing but black. I could feel the pressure punching into my eardrums, and I knew I wouldn't last long this deep any longer. I looked at the Omnic one last time before we both jumped into the abyss.

The robot was too heavy for me to swim with, and I never expected metal to be buoyant. That's why, even though I hated this feeling, I reached at the back of my pack and pulled the cord. I kept my head straight before the force shattered my neck as the ballast popped out of my back. No matter how many times we practiced this maneuver back then, I couldn't help hate the feeling of having an upside down parachute.

I gritted my teeth as the air filled the balloon, and started to lift us out from the darkness. My eyes turned everywhere as the force became more and more unbearable to the human body, and I couldn't help but scream with pain. My vision… my eyes… **POP!**

I blinked my eye to get that salt off and saw blue, and light. Looking up, I could see the surface. The Omnic lost the paint job, and that would've been the least of my worries. A shadow moved near and looking up, I could see a boat. Rescue came.

"Here you go, buddy," I told it, even though the bot wouldn't hear it.

Bubbles dropped down as a bipedal Omnic with a rope attached to its back dived towards us. I lifted the victim up and the rescuer grabbed him. I tried to let go, but its claw latched, painfully, on to me. I saw that the Omnic I rescued wants to come with it.

"No," I said to it, in vain I think. "I have somewhere else to go." With both hands, I hooked the claw and the two were lifted off. I then cut the ballast off my back and started diving down. There, a light came out, and saw my ride home.

+1+ Securitrons are guard drones that are common around the world. Whether it be malls, military stations or municipalities, there would be one waiting around the corner in place of a regular guard. They generally are controlled from a secure location, aiding civilians into crossing the road or apprehending criminals or trespassers with their Tasers. Normally non-lethal, there may be those who would tweak the output. Registered citizens with heart diseases would be blocked from passage, as procedure dictates.

+2+ Omnic or Omnics associate with the general robot population across the globe. They are tied in with many parts of today's society from manual labor to processing data.

* * *

" _To the dead!" shouted Lieutenant Hayes._

" _And for the next men to die!" we shouted in unison._

 _I could see the pain the lieutenant is suffering, and I knew we share all of that too. I didn't hear it at first, only that everybody started opening their jars, and so I opened Mackenzie's._

" _Men!" shouted the lieutenant. "Complete the maneuver!"_

 _And as one, we all threw the ashes into the wind. I was a little late, because I almost couldn't handle letting go of Macky. A part of me was going away as she flew away in the American Midwest._

" _Honors… ten hut!"_

 _Me and the surviving Soldiers saluted as one, watching the men in my command diminish into little more than dirt._

" _Duty," Hayes said. "Service and honor. Even in death, these words will always be within a soldier. They shall be remembered."_

 _It wasn't even raining. It's all sun and shine without a cloud in the sky. Perhaps, this is the real face sadness. My eyes fell on Hayes and that man might as well have a face of stone, but I could still see it._

" _Men, Dismissed!"_

 _After all of this, not everyone have been lost. I gazed along everyone around me and saw many have survived the last mission. Arnold and Mills were in their dress uniform, walking back to the APC, and I couldn't help but think if they hadn't gone through. There were more who survived, much more, I knew._

 _At my other side, Hamil and James were in neutral-bouyancy gel tanks, breathing from a respirator mask. Their bones were mangled up so much I couldn't tell if they're human anymore. Abramsky was on a wheelchair shaking uncontrollably, looking at the horizon, at the others. I went up to him._

" _How you holding up?" I asked Abe, and he looked at me as if I was stupid, which pretty much sums it up the answer. "We all signed up for this. They knew the risk this mission has."_

 _He drawled out slowly. "We… only… wanted…. to…. serve…"_

 _I dropped down on one knee and said, "And you will." I moved my hand to his and hold it firm. "And you will always will be."_

 _He shakily nodded and gave one last salute as an orderly moved him back to the car._

* * *

"RTB (Return to Base) complete," said the computer. I was too lazy to download a new voice pack for it, so I'll settle with the monotonous tone for now. "Have a nice day."

I groaned as I woke up from my slumber. I knew I should've had better cushion in this mini-sub because hours sleeping here felt like driving a nail up my spine. Of course, not all my missions bothered to go to sea.

My arms stretched for the hatch and then I noticed something. I blinked my eyes twice, thrice, four times… I… I can't see. My right side, I can't see!

I panicked, shoving the hatch open and falling right down to my face, letting bang out on the metal floor. I quickly recovered and dropped all of my things for the e-Clinic +1+. I have to lean on my left side as I worked on my way on this wall computer. Slamming the diagnosis button over and over again, mumbling, "Come on… come on…"

A wave of light began spreading all around me, creating grids and sparking the damn thing. It's not my fault I jacked this machine from a bombed out casino. It was a free for the taking, but damn I should get someone to fix it. It's not like this place needs any more fire.

After the lightshow stopped, I then asked, "What's the damage doc?"

"Hairline fracture on the collarbone," it steadily listed out with its annoying text-to-speech voice. "1st and 2nd degree burns on 22.7% of the skin area. Malnutri—"

"Priotize: Eye! Optics!" I should get a programmer too.

"Extensive nerve damage to the right eye. Laceration on the nos-"

"Give me a treatment."

"Optical surgery. Warning: there are no registered hospitals for 2,453 kilome—"

"Field treatment. Is there anyway?"

"Calling for nearest ambulance hotli—"

"Cancel! Cancel, please." I sighed. "Can't I just get treated now?"

"Please present a licensed doctor in front of the scanner." Yeah, and I'd bet doctors would rather lose their licenses even if it were just asking for a sugar pill.

"Fine. The doctor is here. Let's do this thing." I got a good supply of nano machines +2+ to fix me up. I could do this on my own.

"What is your name and I.D. number?"

Great. "My name is Ass-Kicker and my I.D. number is 5.56mm. Hold on." I began typing on the holo-keys.

"Scanning international database." Yeah keep doing that. I'll just tweak the data a bit. "Warning: database has not been updated for four years and three months. Updating… Cannot access Wi-Fi. Request passwo—"

"There!" Now that the pesky prerequisite is out of the way, we could actually speed things along. "I'm the doctor; now give me sit-rep."

"Please present patient."

"Present."

"Confirm if there is a sanitized room in the area."

"It's completely sanitized." As sanitized as this hole can get. "How can I fix his eye?"

"What is the cause of the damage?"

I shrugged. "He grabbed hold on a telephone wire and here he is. Can we move this along?"

"Calling hospitals for an eye transplant." I sighed again. "Hotline cannot be rea—"

"Nano machine programs." I can't just give this eye out for normal one. It's irreplaceable. "You have them?"

"Programs installed. Caution: the current version is not upda-"

"But can it work?" It's already 20-something-something. It has to be advanced enough.

"…" I waited for its reply. "Unacceptable. Patient is not within human parame-"

"GRAAAAAAAAH!" I screamed in the air. I **SO** wanted to shoot this thing right now! If it weren't the fact that it saved my life a dozen times, I'd throw a frag grenade in it too.

"Is there a problem, 76?" asked a slow voice from the other side of the cave +3+.

"No. No problem at all. Just blind on one side. No biggie!"

"Your combat effectiveness is compromised."

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm beginning to see that also. Grah!" I kicked out an empty box to the wall, smashing it into a million pieces.

"That is… unfortunate."

Huffing, I walked towards Cooly. "Well, what do you think I should do about it?"

"Ask… questionssss." Cooly is slowing down again, and it's not even five minutes.

"Ask who?" It sounded weird asking a CPU regarding my health. In this old and dank warship that I brought down from space a long, long time ago, the captain, which is the glowing orb in the middle of the room, became my last and only friend in the world. Of course, if the e-Clinic has an A.I. too, it might as well be my best of friends, because only best friends kill each other.

"Those who… made you…"

"Sure, let me get my passport. Wouldn't want to get peppered without proper documents."

"But… what do you need… from them…?"

"I don't know. The guy who designed the project must've died years ago. If I could just get a hand of those bio-schematics-"

"Do you know where?"

I pressed my temples. "Of course I know where. It's just that I can't simply just steal them, unless I have an army."

"You always… say that…" I looked at the orb. It's listening to a beehive forming words, and it gets better in time. "You didn't… need an army… when you dropped into Helix… You didn't need… an army when you infiltrated Grand Mesa… You only have a pistol… back then…"

I crossed my arms. "It's kinda different this time."

"Why so unconfident…?" Geez. When I asked for an intel officer, I expected to get some straight information. Only thing I got from this bundle of bolts is a bunch of suggestions and questions. And then dump me with all the intel tasks he was supposed to process. "What do you do… when you have a difficult… assignment…?"

"I plan ahead."

"Then why… don't you…?"

"Even the best of plans falls flat on first contact." Just like what happened earlier. "Plus, I'm kinda in a handicap here."

"But you always… have another one…"

"… And what happens if it fails too?"

"Don't you know… what happens… if it does?"

I scoffed. "Easy! I'll have one less eye to live with!" Not an exciting prospect, but it's an honest to goodness fact.

"And… would you just let… that happen?"

I sighed. "You know I can't shoot well with my left as well with my right." Of course, ambidexterity came with the package, and I can't just rely on that. Additionally, depth perception isn't good with only one eye. "I can't complete my mission, at least without a good success rate unless I treat this injury. I might as well retire."

"But… you can't do that… right?"

I lowered my head. "No, I guess not." I then turned around and went to my room, but before I left the area, I then asked, "What happened to the hackers back at 298?"

"What do you think… would happen?"

"Most likely they're tracked down with their IP addresses and got arrested."

"That may… happen…"

I shook my head "Okay then." I then moved on. It'll be a long night.

+1+ e-Clinics are easy to use medical computers for the treatment of all patients, organic or not, that are found in many establishments. In the wake of the Omnic Crisis, many attacks were concentrated on civilian targets, causing the UN to endorse medical care in cases of another offensive. Nowadays, e-Clinics are typically projects holographic medical packs, so that anyone who wants to have an injury cured only has to step through one so the machine would spray nano-machines accordingly. Billing is charged accordingly for those users.

+2+ Nano-machines became the pinnacle of the medical today. Able to stop bleeding, mend bones and flossing, the results are only limited with the designated programs installed. Focused on critical diseases, these things are terribly expensive.

+3+ Technically, it is the interior of the Helix troop carrier that has been covered with barnacles. Once a proud space boat orbiting Earth, the Omnics manning the stations mutinied and led by C-001 Y-Division. Able to house a thousand men to respond for any conflict around the globe, they were all ejected into the voids of space.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes I can't fathom what I'm doing right now. People would think, 'Oh, 76! Why are you breaking into some guy's home in the middle of the night? I thought you're supposed to get files from a super-secret base!' Well, let me indulge you a bit while I try to crowbar this poor sap's window. You see, I'm planning to go to that secret base later, but first I have to jack some things _here_ before I go _there_.

Slowly, I lifted the lid up and stepped inside. Soon after smelling that newly furbished rug, I took in what my eye can see. The right eye isn't completely gone as I have feared to be, but it looks like you have a curtain of mucous getting in your way. My left told me that this looked like another house. A set of vintage mahogany furniture arranged in living room, some unlit aroma-therapeutic candles over here, a flat screen over there, yeap, this home definitely belongs to a man with no kids.

I pressed the button on my visor and commanded sub-vocally, "Commence scan."

In no time, the entire room was lit up in an orange tint. Many data was filtered so I wouldn't have to delve into the subject any longer. I have to turn my head more often to see what I'm missing till I saw the what I'm looking for. My visor isn't picking up any data from a particular part of the floor, as if it couldn't tell if it's made out of cement or concrete. It's the best place to start, I guess.

I dropped on one knee and feeling the tile. That's a bit hard with gloves on, but it got the job done when the tile came off. Underneath it is a safe with a keypad lock. I brought out my tools from my pack and mumbled, "Time to go to work…" I plugged the wires and began brute forcing for the password. It won't take long, even if it's a twenty-digit code. This baby's designed to work stuff like this, with alphabet too.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked suddenly by a man behind me, most likely with a gun in hand, out of arm's reach.

I slowly raised my arms. "I'm only just—"

"With all your high tech gadgets, you could've seen me moving from your flanks. I made you live and _breath_ tactical awareness, so what. The hell. Happened?"

Completing my turn, what's behind is an old man in light green pajamas, probably silk. Enhanced or not, that pistol on his hand can still put a large bloody cave in my noggin if I'm not careful +1+. His grip is hard and firm, so there's no point in counting his inaccuracy to get me out of this, especially in this range.

"To be frank, general," I said, carefully removing my mask, "my eyes aren't as good as it used to be."

"Nah, just keep it on." And I obeyed. He threw the safeties on and dropped the gun on the coffee table, careful not to scratch the surface. "The last thing I need is for me to see your stupid ugly mug." He plopped down on his sofa and lifted a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses from underneath it. "Take a seat. This one's on me."

"You know that stuff won't get through my system," I replied, dropping on the chair opposite of him. Huh, cashmere.

"That's why you guys are no fun," said Hayes, filling a glass, no ice. "I know this isn't some social visit."

"I know. I'm trying to rob you."

He smiled, and then pointed at the safe. "That's a fake." He then downed his drink in one hit.

I sighed. "Of course it is."

"You were never a good spy, not in your blood. Damn, I trained you to be subtle. I mean, you weren't expecting me sleeping in my own house?"

"Your schedule says you're going for a meeting."

"Canceled." He filled another. "It's about sending aid to some Omnic settlement in the middle of the ocean. They only wanted my opinion in the matter, a very specific one. It was quick, over the phone kinda thing." He narrowed his eyes at me. "You wouldn't have been involved in it, did you?"

"I don't know wha—"

"That's a trick question." He gulped the whole thing down. "It's always got something to do with you. Mostly half the time." His eyes glanced on the tiles on the floor that I pulled away. "Something tells me you want something from me."

I nodded. "Is there by any chance you could give me your keycard? I'll mail it back."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Son, you beat the world record of losing my respect the fastest. And it took so hard to build that up. Ain't ya ashamed?"

"At this point of life, I could afford a few more shame."

He then calmed down and settled his glass down. He always knows when to stop drinking, and that usually means he needs to be sober for what he's going to say next. "You ain't getting it. What are you going to use it for anyway? Go back to Fort Mead? The Pentagon?"

"I need the whereabouts of Dr. Sage, or his associates."

He nodded ruefully. "Passed away last month." I slammed my fist to my knee. "I wouldn't go looking for his lackeys either. They wouldn't know the secret of… you know, you, other than what the books said."

"Well, that's just _swell_. Come on, Hayes. Is there anyone alive out there who knows about the program?"

"I'm looking at one. Me? I don't even know the first thing that makes you tick. Top brass sent you assholes to me because they think I could lead you, and that's what I did. End of story."

"Huh, ain't that dandy. Are you sure there isn't anyone else?"

"As sure as the sun rises." He looked outside the window, over the cold night, and back at me. "Does this satisfied your own curiosity?"

I pointed at my face. "I wasn't kidding about my eye getting busted up."

"Sage was a scientist, not a doctor. His work is brilliant, but he's not the one who've stitched you in the operating table."

"Fine, whatever. Here's a question, general-"

"Don't call me general. You're not in my command anymore."

"If I'm critically injured, where are you going to send me? I got to at least have some health insurance."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's classified."

I surged on my feet. "Dammit Hayes! I'm on my knees here and you're not gonna help me? Admit it, you owe me one!"

He calmly laid back. "Owe you? You followed all my orders to the letter and it saved a lot of lives. I appreciate that, but that doesn't justify you demanding crap from me."

"I sweat, bled and DIED for this world, this country, to you. And what did I get? I got the world hunting my ass. Can't you appreciate what I've done for all this years and get my eyes fixed?"

"Ha! Cry me a river. You act like some angsty teen thinking that the whole world turned against him. Let me be clear here. We never turned you into a vigilante. If you've just revealed who you are-"

"Stop."

He didn't listen. "then we could've helped you. This country could've protect you. But no, you just have to cause all this sorts of trouble and you're making it difficult for us. And because of that, you left us no choice but to shoot you. We can't just stand by and tolerate your actions, no matter how noble there are."

"Then you must've understand what's happened to Overwatch. All your crap about tolerance and no choices, what about the people who died there? I don't see you doing anything about it. I don't see any justice being done!"

"You're wrong. We have been investigating that incident ever since, everyone. We have never abandoned the organization. When the United States gave one of their sons to this suicide squad, we were terrified what would happen if you fail. And once you were appointed as leader, it filled us with pride."

"Then help me. You know as much as I on what's going on out there."

He shook his head. "You must understand that the world is watching us, and they wouldn't have it if we do this. We have to play the act, and that means you're all alone on this. At least on their perspective." He pointed at the pistol on the table. "You know I could've just turned you in. Call the cops and get it over with. You know why I didn't'?"

"I have an inkling, yes."

"It's the only way I see it." He stood up and took both my shoulders. "If you just turn yourself in, I'll guarantee you that you'll get a lighter sentence. You haven't killed anyone yet, at least those who're innocent."

I clasped and unclasped my fists. "Then what about those who died?"

"We'll assign you to our investigative department. I've been there and I'd say they're damn competent. And with you helping them, leading them, you'll have your justice." He looked at me with eyes pleading. "Please. This personal war of yours, you have to let it go."

"No." I shook my head. "I can't do that. Not now. Even if I join your team, we'd still won't be any closer to the truth."

"Yes you can! You were the last one who saw the final moments of Overwatch. You were in there when it happened. If you bring your perspective into the mix, you'll clear the whole thing up."

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

I carefully removed his hands off my shoulders and went back to the chair. "Because I don't know what happened."

His eyes lit in disbelief. "But you've got to. You were there!"

"I was. I remember every moment of it, but everything doesn't make sense. I've going all over the world just to find out what—no, why it happened. I have to find something that… that makes their deaths mean something. I can't do it Hayes. I wouldn't be much help any way."

He nodded accordingly. "You could still do field work or something."

"I can't." I looked at my hands, and they were shaking. "I don't have what it takes anymore. I've been doing fine on my own, but I can't hold a team, not ever."

"You could still have peaceful life. What are you? Fifty? Sixty? You've been fighting long enough. Just let it go and let the youngins do the heavy lifting."

"What about you then? You're much older than I am and they let you do the important stuff." He looked at me funny but I ignored him. I stood up. "Maybe I'm not into leading. Maybe I'm going senile, that I'm clinging to old glory. But there's a whole world out there Hayes, and it's burning. I'll do whatever I can, even if I only have a finger left."

I then started toward the window. It's still open, so there's no point in using the door. As I reached the sill, the good general said, "Get someone good." I looked back at him, his hand on the shot glass again, ready for another round. "In eye surgery, perhaps. Whatever they spliced into you, it's not about genetics. You're a hundred percent human, so find a good doctor out there. It's complicated-"

"I'll do that, thanks." My legs went over.

"It's still not too late to let go!" he shouted as I ran away.

+1+ He could survive the 5mm to a .44 round. His high bone density ensures this, but it won't prevent a good concussion.

* * *

"Someone good, someone good…" I mumbled to myself as I surfed the database. My back's already breaking under the duress for sitting on this metal chair for seventeen whole hours. At least that what it felt like. It's as if this chair was used in a pro wrestling match before I picked it up from the beach.

"Who do you wish to find?" asked Cooly. His orb-like CPU humming a gentle tune.

"A good doctor." I scrolled through another resume and was dissatisfied with the transit, so I brought out another one.

"How good… is good?"

"Depends on the context." Once you get used to answering his/her questions, it notices it and makes the questions even vaguer. "Degrees of nerve research or stem cell implementations. Something like that, and probably the ones with a clean record and less failures."

"Can't you just… narrow the search query?"

"This IS the narrowed search. I'm just going to pick the most qualified. Someone with a sense of, I don't know, discretion."

"Then why not choose someone you know? Apparently, you just ignored an ex-Overwatch member on your list."

"I don't think the guys from the old days would… you know."

"How about your… inner circle? You must've have subordinates who confides with you. And this one says that she's high in the echelon before she retired."

"Not helping." I might have raised my voiced there.

"Are you… afraid, perhaps?"

I stopped everything that I'm doing and faced the orb. "Cooly, I've left the team high and dry back then. I don't even know if my closest friends would even shake my hand after what I did."

"But your… last commanding officer, Hayes-"

"He tried to help, but it's not the help I was expecting. I'll find someone else."

"But isn't… that what friends are for? To go with you through… thick and thin?"

I pressed my cold palms. "That's also why they're the worst of enemies, Cooly. They might take it personal, and I wouldn't blame them if it is."

"So… you _are_ afraid."

I went back to the computer. "It's not that."

After a long second, it then said, "Aren't you supposed… to be brave? Isn't… bravery overcoming your fear? Or is it courage?"

"There's a dictionary out there in the web. Why don't you check it out?"

"Then you know… the difference?"

I sighed. "Bravery means a person goes headlong without fear. Courage takes the fear into consideration and continues despite knowing you are terrified."

"Then… you lack courage?" I stopped and then looked at Cooly. "Or… you lack fear?"

I pushed out of my chair slowly and went to my room. A plan's forming up.

* * *

Numbani, the city of Harmony. Tall skyscrapers, with architecture that's almost physically impossible. Little to no pollution and a crime rate that's an all-time low, even with the world as it is. It was as advertised, humans and Omnics living next to each other, and a bunch of tourists as well. Getting an apartment here, I realized, is a pain. The living costs is kinda discouraging as well. A single lunch there costs like seventy-five bucks, and then I wonder how these people lived.

It was day three walking the cobbled stone parks they built here, and I can't help but feel the tension in the air. I sat on a bench and listened closely at a passing conversation. My Infiltrator Mask +1+ that I took with me many months ago it was doing great work. I look like a regular old African. The only requirement now was to keep my words short and hope my accent doesn't give me away. Think wimpy… think wimpy…

I was stationed here many years ago so I got the grip of the language a bit. Usually though, we have a translator along, and I don't have that luxury any more. The Omnics still run on binary so I can't understand them without a translator, but I can understand the human denizens just fine. And when I mean 'fine', I mean catch a few common phrases. It's been a long time since I visited this place.

One guy was saying, 'Terrifying people… hard life… can't take it anymore…' His friend was agreeing or something, but they stopped talking when they passed through a pair of Omnics. They kept their heads low and moved silently passed through, and the robots seems like they're observing them. Strange, they don't look like auxiliary police or anything, but what are they fearing of?

I think it was time for me to stop resting and start moving. Today was the day a seat in the tour bus is available.

There's a policy here that foreigners aren't allowed to exit the city perimeter unless they are very important or part of the military. The conflict outside was escalating, they said, but areas of the savannah are safe to be used as a tourist location and see the different wildlife. That is, you have to wait a long line for a chance for one. It's freezing on other parts of the world for now, so I wouldn't blame the surge of newcomers, even though a hotspot is near here.

I got in the swankiest grav-bus +2+ with fifty other tourists and took a seat. It was loud with all the socializing and I busied myself on the camera I brought with me. I'll just act sophisticated by pretending to know how to use this thing. There's a pistol in my bag +3+ just in case and my HPR (Heavy Pulse Rifle) is tucked in a subway safe. It's just an unreserved medical appointment so I won't need it much.

A pair of Omnics with slender bodies in green dresses introduced themselves. It's odd seeing Omnics with female configurations +4+, but I'm not the one to judge. One was speaking in Swahili and the other in English and they took turns saying their lines. They warned us the dangers of the countryside but assured us that they have our safety their utmost priority. I sure hope so, because this hasn't been a blessing on my wallet.

The grav-bus then moved out with a pair of motorcycles at the front. Our escorts, I think. We went into the prairie and was disappointed that there's little to no animals anymore. Back then, the fauna was also as sparse near the city areas because of the Crisis, and that just means after all this years, we're back at square one. The tour guides still explained what we _could have_ seen on our left and right.

One thing was that there's no sign of fighting, or at least they hide it very well. Far off in the distance on the grasslands, I could see a military truck near a destroyed tank. It was only for a moment before we went into the jungle. A finger prodded on my shoulder and I looked where it came from. Behind me was a pair of teenage girls, sisters I think, waving at me. One of them asked me if they could take their picture with their phone and I just smiled like an idiot and agreed.

It was midafternoon now by the time we reached the checkpoint so we could take a break. We stopped in front of something like a mini-resort and saw that there are loads of other buses just like ours, which I found it weird. Most of the times, tours are given in intervals so that there wouldn't be much crowding, and boy what a crowd. Pushing outside and ignoring the guy who shoved me from behind before puking on a potted plant, I could hear the commotion

There were many people of different languages gathered so I couldn't make sense on what's going on, only that they're very angry. I could catch bits and pieces of it, something of an unfortunate event.

"Rest assured," said a man in a straight suit on a monitor atop the huge building, probably the manager, "this has happened to the business before, and we have prevailed again and again. We'll return to our program—yes?" It appears that he's listening to someone offstage. The announcer nodded and cleared his throat.

"It appears that, uh, the situation has escalated a bit." Escalation may be an understatement. Even with the increase in volume, somewhere, I could hear gunfire. Small arms, thankfully. "Everyone, I implore a time of calm. The tour guides shall be with you shortly. Please follow all their instructions and you shall return to your respective hotels safe and sound. Have a nice day."

From my side, I could see the motorcycles driving off to the distance escorting no one. The security forces have started passing around rifles and ammunition. Even the towers and walls of the complex is being manned, and perhaps heavily. Turrets at top the tower were now actively tracking and that right there made me feel a little unsafe in this area. It's going to get noisy, and it's going to start as soon as we leave.

As bad as the situation is, this seems like the perfect opportunity to make my escape. I could've stayed with the route and walk all the way to the good doctor, but that doesn't seem possible for now. I plan is forming on my mind while I looked at the map. If I'm going on motorcycle… no that would be too loud. I have to march toward there, which means I'll reach it before sundown.

"Everybody," announced our robotic tour guide, "please return to your seats. Nice and orderly, okay? If you have any questions, please ask once we're inside."

"Can we get a refund?" asked a disgruntled man.

I raised my hand. "How much time do we have left before leaving?" I asked "I haven't got a chance to go to the restroom yet."

"Hold one moment." She fingered on her tablet. "Five more minutes. Please hurry. We also might leave earlier, so find another bus if you miss us. Just present your I.D."

"Thank you, ma'am." They could ditch me today for all I care. It's the end of the journey for me, however, and I intend to leave before the bombs fell.

I went into the restroom. As pristine as this place sparkled, it doesn't smell like it looks. I finished my business here first, because truthfully I really need to go. I brought out my gun and checked the magazine. It looks like it's working in order, because I'll be needing it soon. The safety is still on when I shoved it in my back. Bringing up my phone, I started tapping on the settings for reconfiguring my face.

It was then my ears picked up the gunfire. "The hell…?" I mumbled as I looked outside the window. Civilians started screaming and squeezing into the buses as security started popping guns. The buses started leaving when I got out without my new face arrangements. There won't be anyone here to notice it at this rate, and while the bullet shells were clinging on the stone floor, it was pretty fine, until someone found me.

"You! Over there!" shouted a heavily armored guard. "What are you still doing here?"

"I took a piss?"

He shook his head and grabbed my arm. "We have to get you someplace safe." He pulled me over.

"I can fight. I have training."

"Let US do the fighting. Your mission is to stay alive, for now." And I wouldn't blame him. He's just doing as ordered. Eventually, we reached to an ambulance. "You'll be with the first wounded, so stay tight." And then he left.

Of course, I'm not the only tourist who's got left behind, three of them. There was an old man holding the hand of a crying kid, and one of the ladies I took the picture with at the bus a while ago. She was on the verge of tears, and seeing this, I made the sensible decision to comfort her. In this time of struggle, you have to do whatever you can to ease the pain, even if you'll have to be the shoulder to cry on for the next few minutes. I didn't enjoy being that shoulder, but it's a time of struggle after all.

"Coming through!" cried one of the makeshift-corpsman. They carried five men in stretchers so far. They'll be fine though. One had a gut shot, the other on both arms, another with shrapnel on his ass, and lastly the two were racking in pain when they fell off from the walls. A truck came through the gate and carried dozens of this country's GIs. They seem hardened. They have that look on their faces as they took positions on the walls. More trucks are coming in.

"Okay, you're good to go!" said one of the security forces, signaling the ambulance, and us with it, to leave. It smelled like blood, sweat, tears and medical sanitizers in here, and fairly cramped. I looked outside the window as I saw platoon after platoon holding the position, and I couldn't help feel like that I should've been out there, fighting with them. But with this broken eye that I got, I'd admit that I'll just be a liability. Plus, I only brought a pea shooter.

+1+ The Infiltrator Mask is a tool for SF (Special Forces) behind enemy lines for intel gathering and saboteur missions. It is not a mask as in the term itself, but a sophisticated circlet that projects holographic image over the face and neck. Even though improvements have been made, there have been many issues regarding the effectiveness of this device. Such like when the nose is too long or that when sidestepping to one side, it will reveal inconsistencies. Also, there has been no more improvements in the last generation because it's not possible to mimic an Omnic head.

+2+ As technology progresses, null-grav tech has been implemented in many areas of the world, particular in transportation. First employed in trains and jets for reasons such as speed due to loss of traction and safe landings, there has been debates on the usefulness on other land transportation. Many debated this is a good waste of fuel even if a car is filled with passengers and it's much better to stick to wheels. Those who buy them is for the purpose of prestige, however.

+3+ It was bought from the Numbani black market for a low, low price plus magazines and were hid in a carefully designed and hard to produce pocket in the bag.

+4+ Many Omnics are aware with the presence of different genders, and came up with configurations to adapt to this environment. There's no evidence that they can reproduce, however.

* * *

While traversing through the jungle, we have an escort Humvee in front of us. A standard of four soldiers, I guess. There's an auto cannon at the roof, and that would be good against pre-Crisis +1+ light vehicles. The force has to be pretty determined to take us on, or a well-placed rocket.

Half an hour after exiting the bus stop, the mood was a somber one. There has been many times in news and in the media that traveling into this country would lead into something like this, and for a fair point. I see the people with me now and I'm positive all they wanted is to go home unboxed. Hundreds of foreigners have died last year and these people could easily strike the tally.

There was nothing I could do here but sit and look pretty while I wait for perfect opportunity to escape. Maybe I could feint fear and despair. I'd act all like that and force my way out of the ambulance and into the jungle, and I don't have to risk losing face because I'm just another stranger to them.

Artillery started humping some miles away, but it's enough to reverberate through the van. Everybody yelped as one got a little too close, about five-hundred feet away. This might be the perfect time for me to panic, but I never had the time when the ambulance swerved.

We were thrown on the floor, except the wounded security guards because they were strapped tight. After the car stopped, I could hear the auto cannon crumping hot lead at someone. The combat medic took his rifle and opened the door. He looked through and closed it again, saying, "It's good, we're fine."

I have to see it for myself just to be sure. Looking through the window, I can't see any of the battle, only hearing them. The soldiers accompanying us must've disembarked their Humvee and started firing. Our driver made the smart choice on driving a little deeper into the jungle so the trees would absorb the incoming bullets.

"What is happening?" asked the lady.

"I don't know," I honestly answered. "We're getting shot by someone."

"Is it the AFHL?" asked the old man.

"I don't know. Possibly."

"It's them," confirmed the medic, handling a radio. "We'll have reinforcements soon, no problem." I nodded and lowered my head, thinking on this one.

The Allied Front for Human and Labor, an anti-Omnics rebellion formed just before the Crisis. It was a voice for the traditionalists here in Africa that oppose the replacement of man to machines. I remember back then that they were just peaceful protests and the occasional hardline sabotage on Omnic factories, but when the robots rose to violence, they responded also likewise.

They were hailed as heroes back then for conducting guerrilla raids on their installations, and I fought alongside with these group before. Now they got power and recognition, they became a powerful political entity across the continent. It was by then I wished they just died as heroes before they lived as villains.

With a taste of power, they hunger for more. From banning cybernetics and nanotech, they pushed on to continental 'man' hunt for Omnics. Eventually they wanted a united Africa in the name of prosperity and preservation of culture, and Overwatch has to intervene when their army started marching towards Egypt. No one died on that confrontation, thankfully, because their commanding officer was once my friend.

A treaty was signed and left their expansion from moving upwards. The confrontation with us came with consequences to them, however. They took it as a sign of defeat and humiliation, and so their power and influence began to wane. After the retirement of their leader, it was an intense and bloody power struggle. They fractured and went to war with each other, forcing the countries in Africa, some of them didn't, to cease giving them support and branded them as rebels and radicals.

Now broken and weak, they were little more than a nightmare created from the ideals that lifted them in the first place. No nanos, no cyber parts, no bots, nothing. And if that wasn't enough, the founder threw himself out the window a few years back. When I looked back at these people, sometimes I saw Overwatch in them, and I have to wonder why I didn't kill myself after all these years. And then it beamed to me. Looking back at the window, I saw a reflection of myself, the other face anyway, and thought about that there's still a drive in me. Something that keeps me forward. Yes.

And then, "GET DOWN!" I screamed at them, and they knew I wasn't joking around. With my nose slamming the deck, bullets ripped out from the window pane, destroying everything that isn't shoulder-height. They all screamed while I gritted my teeth till it stops.

When it did, the only thing I could hear was the ringing in my ear and the constant honk of the car horn.

"Damn!" cursed the medic. "The driver is dead!"

"I've," I started. "I-I have to get out of here!"

I opened the door and exited, and quickly closed it as another salvo streamed onto me. I took cover at a nearby tree and stayed there as more metal peppered at it. My pistol is out, but there's no way I'm using this against them. A handgun in the military is mostly there for show, and for good reasons. When a bad guy gets into pistol range and you both have rifles, it was time to leave. To clarify, it was high time for me to hike it.

My eyes scanned around my surroundings and saw the Humvee in the distance. It was hard to miss the fire-breathing mouth that is the auto cannon blaring loudly. Concerns rose when I notice that they weren't fighting in the direction at the guys who're shooting at me. These men behind this tree must be a flanking force, and there's no way that medic handle them by himself.

It was bad thinking, I knew it. It was really bad as I ran away from the battle, cover from cover. I reasoned to myself that I wouldn't stand a chance against them, not with my limited vision. They could be bait, get out of here while I can and avenge them later. And yet... that's not how I roll.

Halting, I noticed that the incoming fire began to moderate. They're picking focused shots at me, but I noticed some of them are firing the ambulance. Smart, I'll give them that. They have enough people to split their attention, but it would lead some holes in their offense.

I brought out all my magazines from my bag and shoved them inside my pants. My presence here must be maintained so I popped a few at their general direction. Feels weird firing with my left, but it got their attention all right.

They intensified their fire while I crawled down and approach them from the side. The medic is doing a good work suppressing three guys at the same time, but it won't be long before he run dry. I crawled as fast as I can, and when I was a few feet away from them, I could see the color of their eyes.

There's three in front of me, propped on a fallen log and firing at my last known location, and there are more, five, behind trees and aiming at the ambulance. They take turns of suppressing and running forward, inching closer to their target. The AFHL troops wore a sleeveless camoed riot armor with a thin yellow arm band. They carried a bull pup rifle that I hadn't seen in years, and their bandoliers still have plenty of ammunition to go around. But they won't be needing it soon.

I raised myself into a kneeling position and kept my firing hand ready. I sprung. Coming to the side, I was fifteen feet away from the nearest guy and they were all so focused on the kill zone that they didn't try to check their six. I know they have allies behind them, but checking your six has been too important, especially when a monster like me comes into the equation.

Now I could see one of his eyes was blue. It blew this way and it blew that way. Sensing one of their comrades is dead, and the amount of blood and brains splashed on their uniforms, they tried to turn their guns at me, but it was too late. I squeezed the trigger ten times in a rapid succession under one second at their necks and faces, and they all screamed, cried and died.

If you have been familiar to the sound of your own gun and your enemy, you might have to wonder what a pistol is doing here. And when you turned around, you see a man with balls of steel charging right at you. You couldn't do anything besides taking that shoulder charge right at your gut and the pistol whip that would blacken your vision.

His fellows noticed the intrusion as I flicked the blood from my pistol and changed the mag. They started firing and retreating the same time, fearing that their position has been lost. I fired more rounds at them, spurring them all to leave. From their perspective, they'll figure that this position is too heavily defended, suffered a casualty too many to challenge this problem. For me, it was time to tie this sucker that I bashed up earlier and leave the scene.

+1+ Guess.

* * *

I took a bite on my protein bar as the sun settled. The geography said that the target destination is somewhere around here. All I can hear is snakes, birds and bugs mating loudly or something. Haven't met more of those AFHL goons yet, and that would be fine by me. I'm not in a condition to fire fight yet.

By the time it had gone dark, my eyesight got the best of me. I can't see 3D as much as I have two, and the darkness hasn't helped one bit. I tripped here, I stumbled there; everywhere is now a massive trip hazard and I'm slowly turning into a danger to myself than a gun to the face would. The one thing that's keeping me from stopping and take a moment is that I'm going to get healed soon. So frigging cheer up, 76!

"Huh?" I mumbled as I saw heard something in the darkness. I knew it was an engine, so I perched up on a branch and saw a pair of lights some distance across. It's a patrol, I guessed, but who's?

The dumbest thing you could do in a jungle full of hostiles is creating a fire. I'm not, because I burned this baby up for a reason. If you see smoke and fire in a normally dark environment, and that's a big flashing billboard saying, 'Retarted Asshole Making Camp!' I was a few yards away with my pistol at the ready along with a pile of fire wood and a dead snake, waiting for someone to come.

An hour later, a group did. They began surrounding the camp fire with guns drawn. I saw that they're wearing proper uniform, have different weapons, tactics and doesn't have a hint of yellow on their arms, so it might be safe. I then lifted the bundle of wood with the snake at top and started approaching them.

Once I the light is reflecting on my sneakers, they then turned at me, shouting in Swahili, "Halt!"

"GAAAH!" I cried out as authentic as possible and dropping all of my stuff on the ground. "Oh, are you the with the army? Please, I ne-"

"Drop the gun!" one shouted in English. "Drop the gun now!"

"Okay-okay, sure!" I then plopped down my pistol, with safeties on of course, and kicked it to them. "Please, I'm lost, and cold. I need to speak to my-"

"Stand still." One of them walked to me and took my bag and searched it. Another patted me down for any weapons.

"He's clean!" he announced.

"Here too," the guy with my bag said, giving it back to me.

Another soldier confidently closed on to me, the leader perhaps, and asked, "Who are you and how did you get here?"

"I'm Jason Marsh, sir. I'm just a tourist visiting the country. I signed up for a ride in the Numbani Savannah Tour, and-" I could hear some men speaking in Swahili about the attack earlier on a resort, but the commander leered at his men to shut up. "and, uh, we got attacked. It was fast, so I got left behind. I took a ride in an ambulance, but they got hit too. When the driver died, I couldn't handle it, so I ran as fast as I can. I'm making camp here." I pointed at the ground. "Want some snake?"

"We'll take you back at our station," he said. "We can get you back to the city tomorrow."

"Well, sir," I began, scratching my head, "I really need medical help, nitroglycerin. I have a heart condition and I left my medicine back at the bus stop. It's been a long time since I took my prescription, and my chest has been aching all day."

He nodded and called two other men to his side. The soldiers huddled and discussed, and afterwards the leader went back to me and said, "We know where to find good medicine, but I don't know if we can take you back to the city tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Yes! Yes! Please take me there."

We hiked a few till we reached their IFVs (Infantry Fighting Vehicle). It smelled of cigarette, motor oil and grease. Meaning, it smells like home. Chatter filled the air as they get over their boredom, which was 95% of the job. The rest is pretty worth it though, pure terror, but that's how it is.

It was just a constant rumbling of engines and radio chatters from point A to point B. We disembarked sometime after midnight with moon big and wide. I'd rather look at the stars than see the sorry sight right now.

The place I stumbled into is a refugee camp, Camp Prosperity Wells, the place that I needed to check in. There were rows and rows of tents for the eye could see. It was night, so there wasn't many people running around other than UN troops. I took a glimpse inside a tent and saw many people sleeping up to their chins with not enough blanket. Nothing they wore were particularly warm or whole, and they were forced to hug with strangers to keep themselves from freezing. The night is pretty damn cold after all.

The commander talked to another trooper here and said their goodbyes to me, promising that they'll return. My new escort ushered me through the camp. All the while, it was a somber sight to see these many people displaced by… well, it's not actually because of war. The presence of the AFHL is so big in this country is because these people have been replaced by the Omnics, and there's nothing denying that fact.

Many men and women here are just as homeless and jobless as much as they are a victims of this civil war. How can a man compete to a machine who could never need food and sleep, who can process information better than their counterparts? Even if they go to college, job opportunities are an all-time low. Many called this age as the Second Industrial Revolution, but the first one, the factories didn't have a voice. They can't get a job here, and they can't afford to move to another city or country, and so they are left here. To rot, as they say.

And to think that this is the world that Overwatch built and protected. All the reports said about overpopulation, that we've occupied this world too much for it to handle. The Omnics made it worse, spiking our numbers to about ten billion if we considered them in. That's why the funding to the Vishkar had been so high for that new teleporter of theirs. We have to send our numbers into Mars or Jupiter's moons and hope we don't find a gateway to Hell there.

Perhaps, after that, we don't have to fight against each other, and I would see less of these camps all over the damn earth. But I knew that'll be just a dream.

"Here we are," said the trooper as he opened the tent flap, the biggest one so far. I was lead into a large clinic with beds nearly fool of the sick and wounded. The lights were out, but I could hear the groans of pain and infectious coughs. I checked out a man who is missing a few fingers and a leg. On my other side is a little girl covered in bloodied bandages, and I could guess she'd been burned to crisp and got a dose of morphine too many.

At the end of the tent was a flap slightly open, letting yellow light seeping through. The private peeped in and said a few words.

"Pvt. Khalifa," said a voice inside, and I perfectly remembered that. My eyes twitched when I realized how much I missed it. "What? Well… fine. Bring him in. And also, can you take this boy to a bed if you would be so kindly?"

"Of course, doctor," answered the trooper, almost too enthusiastically. He went inside and exited with a little boy by the hand. The kid have black splotches on his skin, AIDS I think, and have a pill case on his hand. The soldier then waved me over and I complied.

Pushing through, I could smell the irritating perfume of sanitizing chemicals. The person inside offset that irritant though. Dr. Angela Ziegler +1+ was wearing dirty white tee with a stethoscope around her neck. She also has a worn out jeans bleached on the knees and bright yellow sneakers, which was chaffed on the sides. Her face was just as the same as last time, even if she have eye bags the size of cats. Her hair was ruffled up in a tight pony tail, and a few strands got loose.

"Ah, hello there," she greeted in Swahili as she scribbled on her tablet. "Please take a seat, Mr…"

"It's Marsh," I finished in English, taking the chair. "Jason Marsh."

"That's unusual. How did you arrive here?" I told her the exact same thing I told the soldier who found me a while ago while she searched for the heart pills. "Well, I… I couldn't blame you. There wasn't much you could do."

"I believe they are fine, doctor. I think that cavalry arrived as soon as I left them."

"Really now… There it is. Do you have your I.D. with you? I can't prescribe this without seeing your medical records first."

"Sure thing." I brought out my phone and gave it to her. I made sure that everything is in checked there, given how much I have to lie on my profile so I could get to her.

"It seems that everything's in working order." She handed me the pill case. "You must've known the drill by now."

"Yes, of course." I paused and fiddled with the case.

Angela then smacked her head. "Oh, water. Yes." She then went to the water dispenser.

"Actually doctor," I blurted out, "I need for you to look at something for me."

"Yes, what is it?" She handed me the plastic cup of water.

"I've had a nasty fall earlier. I think I, uh, lost my memory there for a second. And then… and then my eyes started blurring all of a sudden."

"Oh my! It might be a serious concussion. Can I examine where it hit?"

"Go ahead."

She then touched my skull and inquired, "Huh. That's…" she lifted the circlet on my head, "weird…?"

"Hey," I greeted as normally as possible, without the wimpy voice. Damn, it felt good to be myself again, because poor Angela was having a heart attack. She slammed back on a table, spilling the things at top. "Woah-woah, easy there," I calmed.

"You!" She menacingly pointed at me, her face in a permanent scowl. "Y-y-y-you!"

"Doc, I know it's been a long time but I need your help." I smiled, maybe forcefully.

"Help?"

"Yeah! Just like old times. I get shot, you patch me up, easy. Come on, aren't you glad that I'm not dead?"

"I…" Her face faltered. "I… I-I am."

"Whoa! Really?" She's actually taking this quite well! Cooly was correct after all!

She nodded, almost mechanically. "I do. Because I could kill you myself." From behind, she brought out her Caduceus Blaster +2+ and pointed at me.

+1+ Also known as the famous Overwatch member 'Mercy'.

+2+ No, Soldier 76 would not survive with a full blast of that.


	3. Chapter 3

I remembered Angela back then when she was just in her teens. Overwatch, back when we are just an elite strike team, was tasked to negate another terror attack at Schaffhausen. The Omnics were smart in the war; attacking civilian targets and instilling fear on all corners of the globe. It was awful, but effective nonetheless. It also forced the governments of each country that were attacked to stop funding Overwatch when they felt that they couldn't count on us. And when there are too many hotspots in the world for us to save, it was an even harder decision to respond to one.

Forty-eight killed, hundreds wounded, that's how it ended back in Schaffhausen. I have to break the news to the relatives in a live speech in front of the town hall. I believe little miss Ziegler was the one who threw the rock at me back then, had to be those eyes of hers. We lost the Swiss funding in the end.

The second time I saw her was at a college with a name that I couldn't pronounce +1+, and she was grinning from ear to ear and blushing like crazy when she gave me that bouquet. It was an apology for all the years back when she threw all those crap at me. I said it was okay since there's so many people out there in the world, which persists today, that wants a TV show featuring my decapitation, plus reruns.

We were only there to investigate an Omnic who covered itself with a human skin and tried to live a peaceful life, until the flesh started rotting. I told the team that we should've left that sicko to the locals, but we changed our mind when there's been reports of the same thing happening all over the world. Angela was disappointed when we have to leave to start interrogating the suspect, and she wants me to promise her that I should visit again. I didn't want to break her heart, so I told the truth that those chances were nil, and I have never seen her ever again.

That is until she joined Overwatch years later. She had this calm effect of her, that she's always in control (to be honest, she was a major control freak), and that was fine by me. We only took her in so we could look good in public because we've been waging war 24/7. High achieving scientists and renowned doctors were hired even though they serve no purpose than to look impressive.

They don't have to make a breakthrough in their respective fields; we just made them sit still and look pretty so we could get away from the press. Overwatch does have a peace sign as a logo, but we also loaded up that chopper a long time ago and let it rain. There were hits, most of them were misses in producing the next big thing, and Angela was definitely a big hit. Like a wallop. She always followed orders, acknowledged her superiors and produced results, which was a win-win. And thankfully, she wasn't like the teen or student that I've met many eons ago, and she acknowledged me like any other guy in the organization.

And now, as she was making that scary face and pointing that gun right at my nose, can't I say I'm any more prouder? Sure, it's not cool having the barrel against you, but at least she's doing good work here in Prosperity Wells. Tens and thousands were saved because of her presence here in the Red Cross, which also attracted dozens of NGOs and volunteers to assist her, all because her name was plastered on their posters. She's not saving the world anymore, but at least she's trying to help a part of it.

Now, I'm just hoping she could show that generosity to me too. As in generous in TLC (Tender Love and Care), not a mouthful of ions.

"Angela," I slowly called her name, low enough to prevent the patients outside the flaps from overhearing, "point that thing away and let's talk. Civil like."

"Don't you 'Angela' me," she said, her face set in stone cold and dreadful. Her voice was also lowered. Either because she has an interest on listening to me first before she calls the guards or kill me, whichever comes first, or because she's making this personal. And I wouldn't blame her. "All these years… all these years, why now?!"

"Angela please," I said again, waving my hand for her to lower the gun. "It's not like I left you at the altar or something."

A sneer twitchingly formed. "I can't believe you have the GALL to fling a joke."

I shrugged. "Reunions aren't my thing, you know."

She jutted her chin. "What happened to your eye?"

"That's why I'm here for. While I was on the run, I got in a little acci-"

"Serves you right."

I ignored that comment. "I'm half-blind, doc. Can you do something about it?"

"I'll blind the other half."

I threw up my arms. "Dammit, Ziegler! I'm sorry that I pulled a Tom Sawyer after all these years +2+, but I need help more than ever."

Her gun faltered a bit. "Help? Help you?!" She straightened it.

"Just fix up my eye. That's all I'm asking, and I'll be out of here before you know it."

"And do what?" Her eyes hardened, just like the first time we met. "Go back to… to stealing tech that isn't yours? Back to your pitiful vigilante life? Go kill those you don't like?" She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have it. I'm not going to fix you if you're just going to hurt other people in the end." She then lowered her gun, her eyes on the floor. "And I'm not… I'm not…" After dropping the Infiltrator Mask on the floor, she then painstakingly turned around and left me, not before she told me, "Leave. Get out of my clinic, and never come back."

That was one more thing I admired about her. Even after our life in the organization was over, she still has that spunk in her. I picked up the circlet and placed it back at my head, dropped the contents in a plastic bag, left in on the table, pocketed the container and left.

+1+ ZbW Zentrum für Berufliche Weiterbildung in Appenzell Ausserrhoden if anybody is interested.

+2+ 76 is speaking in hyperbole, however. It has been one year after Overwatch disbanded.

* * *

Out in the night sky, just a few feet away from the mini-hospital tent, I began thinking about my next move. Obviously, Angela wouldn't change her mind any time soon, so there's no point staying in this country. I guess I'll just sit in this dump and look useful while waiting for my ride back home.

My ears caught a tinny whirring sound just behind me and saw a little red RC (Remote control) car bumped on my boots. I assumed it was one of those toys donated so the kids could do something child-like for once. Must be playing in the night so others wouldn't feel jealous for him/her.

It just stayed there for some odd reason. I looked around and I couldn't find the user. I tried to pick it up so I'd return it, but the little red car backed up. And then I saw it. In the middle of the windshield, I saw a circular tube reflecting under the moonlight. Installing a camera in a kid's toy is awfully expensive, and kinda over engineered, unless there's another purpose for it.

"Alright," I said to the air out loud. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" It wouldn't gathered my attention if I wasn't the target.

And then a speaker inside the car spoke in a crackly voice. "Follow me." It made a U-turn and never drove a feet or two away from me. There's another camera at the back window.

"Wow." I scratched the back of my head. "I mean, why should I?"

"Because there's a pound of C-4 inside this piece of plastic and it'll automatically detonate once you strode a little too far."

I twitched my eye. I've been found and I'm unarmed. This is the worst case scenario, and my fate is in the hands of this stranger. But if he wanted me dead, he would've blown me up while he's cowering behind a monitor +1+. I have to hear him out first. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

With enough distance to easily step the bomb, my eyes searched for any of the UN troops. They don't seem to be noticing me following this toy, and some of them are busy watching their balls as they fell asleep crouching. Are they on this too? Or at least some of them? I have to assume some of these soldiers are likely to be the case. I don't to be killing anyone who's not a part of this after all.

The little bomb then led me to the UN base, Fort Herald. It's smaller than the refugee camp but heavily defendable, surrounded by well-placed sandbags, barbwires and fences, and elevated in high ground. There are troopers going in and out of the base, and I don't see myself entering it.

This little Herbie has other plans, however. It started leading me into one of fence sections and squeezed through a gap.

"What the hell I'm supposed to do here?" I irritably asked.

"Find a way or die," it said.

Sighing, I removed my bag and tossed it on top of the barb wires. After making sure no one is watching, I climbed up the fence, and it's painful to hear my bag ripping. This bag has been with me through thick and thin, and I already considered this to be my last loyal friend from the old days. It's hard getting friends once you're old after all.

As soon as I landed, the car beckoned me to follow me deeper into the base. I have to be careful here on out, because I'm sure everybody is bound to shoot me even if I look like a civilian. Tensions in the country ensured this, and the eyes from the patrols told an echoing tale. And they haven't been in combat yet.

The guy controlling this car must've anticipated this, because he led me over without getting us caught. There may be a few close calls here and there, mostly due to the fact I couldn't see well as before, but this person took time to anticipate their patrol routes. Crossing after a jeep passed through, the car then drove through a doggie door in a building. Now I knew there shouldn't be something like this in a conventional barracks.

I tried opening the main door and found it to be locked. Before I knocked, I heard a click and tried the door again. As I opened it, I took a peek inside to see a UGV (Unmanned Ground Vehicle) sporting a spiffy heavy caliber machine gun. And it's pointing at me.

"Come on in," said the voice, clearer this time. "There won't be anyone here but you and me."

"Except them," I said, pointing at the droid.

"Insurance, you have to understand." It then started to move backwards. "Now move it, before I have to explain how I lost all ten thousand rounds of ammunition." Couldn't argue against that. Ammo is expensive.

I followed the backwards driving drone into the lit hallways while the barrel trained at me. I then noticed that the little car was gone, but I guess they both have the killing potential. A few turns later, we stopped in front of another door, with another doggie door. The droid set aside. "Well?"

I rolled my eyes and turned the knob. Racks upon racks of guns, blasters, and lasers filled the room, along with stacks of aerial and ground drones on the sides, all expertly crafted and kill-worthy. This must be the armory, but for some reason they're all sorted like a grocery store, and I'm tempted to pick a shopping cart when I saw the guy in charge at the end of the room.

"Torbjorn?" I called out loud at that midget sitting against a hundred flat screens, all tuned in across the base.

He turned his seat to me while petting his little car bomb with his mechanical claw, dressed in a camo uniform and a bonnet with a golden UN on it, and with a big grin on his face. "You cock-sucking asshole."

I almost broke a smile too, but thankfully I caught myself and coughed. "What the hell are you doing here? You're giving guns for the UN now?" Last time I heard of him, he was leading raids on black markets, legally. "And can you please put that thing down?" I pointed at the car on his arms. "Don't want to end the meeting prematurely."

"Oh, this? It's harmless. Just patched a few bottles of plastic and some silicon. It's for the kids." He then unpinched his lobster like arm, releasing the car on the floor. He then looked up thoughtfully. "As for my new job… Well, it's an honest living, but as you can see," he patted the drone next to him like a puppy, "I'm just offering low tech and maintenance. The juicy ones are still locked up." He then popped out of his chair and made his way to me. "But you? I've been hearing dangerous things 'bout ye. Deadly even." His artificial eye scanned all over me with inquisitiveness.

"Look, I miss you too, but how about this. You stick with your business, I'll stick with mine. Capiche?.

He chuckled. "Boy-"

"I too am old." I waved over me.

"You've been seeing Mercy just a while ago, and that's as personal as it could get."

I sighed. "Torbjorn, is it a problem to see an old teammate? And isn't that violating privacy or something?"

"Bet you know all about violations." I gave him the look, but it didn't deter him. "All these rumors on what you're doing, and you think I'll let you near her?" He shook his head and went back to his throne. "And for your information, she gave me permission if it's outside the tents."

I followed him. "Then how did you know it was me?"

"The Infiltrator mask is a tricky tech to discern, but I made motion, mannerisms and gesture scan on ye."

"Crap. Then why didn't you just turn me in?"

He took a deep breath and went back to his seat. "That's because I'm hoping that whatever happened to you all these years, you wouldn't let that come to pass when Mercy's involved."

"What? What do you expect me to do? Kill her?!" I was infuriated by the thought of it.

"Now, now," he said, waving me down. "I know rumors when I hear them, but it's never a bad thing to be sure. There's been this guy hunting former Overwatch membe-"

"That wasn't me!" I shouted, throwing up my hands.

"But still, you always suspected that those upstarts were up to something. I sense vendetta back then. You know, back on the Watch."

"Okay pal, if I have the ability to teleport on four edges of a continent in a matter of hours, I'd be a happy man. You know me, and you know Overwatch. No one on our side is capable of that stuff +2+. And besides, even if I hold grudges against them, I know for a fact that they're not the head of it. It's not even time efficient if I go to them one by one, unless they have some they need to say." But the reports on dead ex-Overwatch is unsettling, especially the ones that were adept in combat.

He nodded at my explanation. "That's a very logical assumption."

I raised an eyebrow. "Assumption?"

"Well, you just said that it's impossible and improbable for you to do it, but you never said anything about your motives."

My eyes falter a bit. "It's best not to ask. Let's just say that I'm only here because I need Angela to fix my eye, and... and that's about it. No trouble involved."

We both waited, staring at each other, and it felt like forever till her said, "Fine, I wouldn't pry on it. Must be some Yankee heroism or some cocksucking crap. Hmm… If Mercy ain't gonna heal ye, I think I could give you some eye augments."

I shook my head violently. "No. No, thanks. If there's a chance that this eye can be saved, I'll find a way."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Just kidding, boyo. I know that cyborg thing isn't coming pass you." Cyborgs still creeps me out today. "Why don't you stay here for the night and tomorrow I'll put out a good work for Mercy."

"That's… awfully nice of you." This could be the nicest non-robotic person I've ever met for the whole life. And yet… "I'm sensing a 'but' here."

"Of course, you dolt!" he said out loud. "Once you get patched up, there's something on my back that's needs itchin'. And you're going to do it with your own. Bare. Hands." He straightened his spine. "And don't worry. I'll make sure Mercy be healing you spic and spam each time you get hurt. Bet she loves you getting all shot up, and think of it as punishment."

"Well damn. You lost the bet. Next time I'm back at her operating table, she'll pluck out both my eyes with chopsticks!"

+1+ To note, if the toy car detonated and 76 still survived, he'll be immediately held with an amount of suspicion by the authorities present.

+2+ Besides the experimental teleporters and troop transports over the course of years, there is no transportation in the hands of Overwatch that could achieve such a feat.

* * *

Opening my eyes at the sound of whirring, I saw a little plastic car making doughnuts in front of my bed. I had to raise my head in order for my good eye to observe it. It looked kinda cute at first, but then the raspy baritone voice ruined it by saying, "Rise and friggin' GET UP, 76!"

"Fine, I'm up, I'm up." I looked at the clock and saw it was nine in the morning. Normally, I would've woken up earlier, but I haven't such a good nap for months now, with an actual bed for once! Five hours, now that's a blessing. "What's the special occasion?"

"Trouble." It drove through the doggie door.

"Huh?" I rubbed the sand off my eyes, and grabbed my things and go outside to find the car waiting for me. "What kind?" I asked, following it.

"Something in your area of expertise, I say."

"Oh." I faltered for a moment. "If that level of violence is near here, it's a bad day for everybody. Is it the AFHL?"

"Right so." It drove threw another door. I opened it seeing a garage. There's a dozen of heavy vehicles here, but I could see the one with Torbjorn's touch. It's a jungle camoed Stryker with defensive anti-missile systems, armed with four .50 cal machine guns on four sides and a large 30mm cannon. Beside it was Torbjorn with his welding mask on and letting off sparks all over the place.

"That's a thing of beauty," I commended, standing right next to him, but not too close. Don't want to get myself burned.

"It's a hand-me-down, but it'll do." He turned off his welder from his lobster claw and faced me, flipping the mask to see his soot-filled and greasy face. "Ready to go? Get in the back."

"So what does those goons want with Prosperity Wells?" I asked as I went inside the rear compartment. "The news says that there's been no major engagement with the two forces for years now."

"Well, today's that day, I guess," he admitted, riding as the driver. The radio system in the Stryker crackled. "Listen to this."

It was in Swahili and I can make up some phrases. They're talking about 'meddlers' and 'instigators of war'. And a lot of anger.

"They wanted us off the country and 'release' the refugees," explained Torbjorn as the garage door opened. I could feel the machine driving off.

"The answer?" I looked outside the window slit and saw mass movement of UN troopers.

"We've been given permission to protect the civvies and engage the rebels."

"And what do you want me to do about it? I'm not a civilian contractor, and I don't think you pay well." I remember that he owed me money, for a decade. I'll have to remind him about the interest later.

"Can you see that ammo box there?"

I looked at the stacks of metal boxes lined on the floor. "Which one?"

"The colored ones."

There were a couple of black boxes juggling on my left. "All three of them?"

"Yeah, they're yours. I noticed you came here unarmed, so I took the liberty to build you some boom sticks."

"I haven't registered yet +1+."

"Oh, don't worry. Those aren't things you'd normally manufacture."

"A pipe gun!?" I shouted out loud as I lifted the abomination of wood, scrap metal and duct tape. It's roughly the same length of a normal Armalite, maybe shorter, and heavier since it's not reinforced polyester. "You expect me to go to war with these piece of crap?!"

"My cousin in prison says it is fine," he reassured me, laughing. "He uses it all the time."

"Was your cousin a dwarf or an ork?" The weight balance is unacceptable, and it reeks like a sewer.

"Couldn't say, but he's a genius nonetheless. Hey, lighten up. At least you got a ton of decommissioned 7.62 rounds."

"Decommissioned?" I picked up a bullet from the other box. "More like a rejected concept. Combined with this gun, it's a danger to the user." Also, it looked like a dog chewed it and spitted it out. "I think I can guess why he's in prison."

"He's a good guy once you get to know him." We stopped in front of the main gate. While Torbjorn is talking to the guard, I was busy fitting all of these ammo in the magazine, and with these things being misshaped doesn't help. At least the magazines were pristine from neglect. Soon, we were on the road again. "You see the last box?"

"Yeah." It was a bunch of essentials. A tactical tablet with maps and comms, med-sprays, gun cleaning chems (if there's ever a need, at all), a pair of binoculars, bandoliers and more. But… "What's this? A bomb?"

"You're going to need that on where you're going."

I lifted the large tin can with a local milk powder brand. There's a calculator wired atop the container, and I knew it's a time bomb. Made with heavily chemed fertilizer, because it smells just as bad. "Let me guess, there is someone needed bombing."

"Very simple, right? I located a probable location command vehicle just a few klicks from this position with our UAVs."

"Why don't you just shell it then?" Infantry wins firefights, tanks wins battles and artillery wins wars after all.

" _Probable_ location. We've spotted airwaves on where they're most concentrated, but it's a wide radius. If we bomb them now, there's a high probability that they'll split right after the first shell hits. And that's where you come in, 76. You've done this a couple of times, right?"

"With a _team_." I put and emphasis on that last part.

"No, you're not going to expect help from me. I have to man the defenses here, so that if you fail, the rest would just have to rely on me to tire them out and convince them how dead brained they are for even trying."

"Then how about we go along with that plan?"

A pause. "I just wanted the battle to be quick. Even if we can turtle their forces, the refugees have enough of this war. They came here because they believe they'll be safe from it, and I'm not about to shatter their hopes and dreams." Another pause. "You have to break their back."

"I understand." This still doesn't mean I would be part of this war. "How far are they now? How long does our reinforcement till they arrive?"

"We've been alerted as soon as they started shooting off my cameras in the outskirts, so it'll be another hour before they meet our pickets. It's a scouting force, but I bet they're waiting for the rest of the army to come up. As for backup, noon, at the most. It won't be enough to close the lid, but we'll trickle logistics till the time comes."

"If they're serious on taking this place, they would've done skirmishes while they wait."

"Right now…" He's listening to something. "There are." From inside the IFV, I could hear dull booms of artillery from the distance. "Looks like it's starting. Hold up." He made a sharp turn then suddenly stopped. "This is as far as we're going. I'll keep in touch with you through the tablet, so keep a lookout."

I gathered all of the stuff and opened the door to the jungle.

+1+ Most modern militaries this day used fail safes if the owner of a gun left or died. It's mostly of the case that once the owner dies, the thermite inside the guns they were carrying would detonate, melting all the essentials. Others, like the South Korean MEKA, is too big to be destroyed by mere thermites, so anyone unauthorized trying to pilot one would be electrocuted with 10,000 volts.

* * *

I arrived at the target area at last after avoiding a few patrols and convoys. Looking around, I found a nice secluded area and dropped my butt there. My hands, a little blistered from carrying the hard wooden stock, dove into my bag pockets for my breakfast. Or is it lunch? Well, MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) is for every meal. These clothes are soaked tight and I can't seem to stop myself from sweating. My feet were hurting and my bones were creaking, but all of these considered, I'm perfectly fine.

I took out my tablet to see if Torbjorn send me anything, and I got a message. I have to turn my head in order to see it well. 'Forces lighter than expected,' it said. 'Reinforcements arrived, but we are still waiting for your miracle.' And it's a miracle you'll get, buddy.

Moving slowly so my stomach wouldn't cramp, I then heard something familiar after half an hour later. It's unmistakably a mortar round propelling, multiple ones. I crouched lower and approached the occurrence slowly.

There were four trucks lined up in a row out in the open field, and each of the trucks have a mortar team firing from each of their backs. It's lightly guarded, looks like it, but I knew the mission comes first. They'll be shelling all day, and it pains me to leave it unmolested. I skirted around this area and moved on. I'll just get them next time.

Later, I've been running into more and more patrols, and I knew that something and someone important is near. I arrived at a lightly fortified base, but it makes up with great man power. Over the trees, I could see machine guns huddled in sandbags and riflemen perched on tree branches, but that's just icing on the cake. There were dozens of light armor lined up with a dozens of men making camp. This must be their reserve forces, and I knew I can't go up against that, not under broad day light.

And then a planned ticked on. I backtracked to the mortar trucks and crouched next to one. There's still a bunch of guards around that hasn't noticed me, and instincts tell me to deal with them first, but I need them alive.

My pipe rifle's stock pressed between my left armpits. I took out the safeties and popped out of my cover and at their backs. Blood spurted out from their bodies as I drilled bullet after bullet at their persons. They cried out one last time before they fell lifeless. I moved to the second truck.

A soldier dropped down from the truck with his rifle drawn, so I sped up and slapped the rifle to the side, letting it rip on the grass next to me. I then kicked his knees, letting him fall to the ground, and then I finished him off with a burst of hot lead. My rifle trained at the open back of the truck and saw a surprised team of men. They tried to fire at me, but I was faster. The third one.

They all wisened up with my assault and every last one of the mortar teams disembarked and started firing at me, shouting for help. I swing myself at the second truck and blind fired against them. After firing my last bullet, I popped in another magazine and prepared for another volley till I saw the guards coming from the sides. They were far away when I shot at them, and I don't think I hit anyone, but that's enough time for me to circle around.

I ran to the side of the truck's hood and saw more people. They're trying to flank me but I wouldn't let them. My barrel boomed a heavy tune, killing three more with each burst, but then my rifle jammed.

"Damn!" I cursed as I took cover. I tried pulling the charging handle, but apparently the bullet is wedged deep inside the ejection port. There was no time for this, and two out of four is enough, so I then made a wild dash into the woods as a ripple of bullets followed me.

I gasped for air after sprinting for almost ten minutes straight. There's no question that they're completely lost, and I work hard for that to happen. My hands fumbled in the gun's innards and extracted the damnable thing. I wiped the sweat off my brow and craned my neck to see if there's any more. Satisfied that my little escape proved fruitful, I let a small smile and marched on to my objective.

Returning, I saw that the base was full of activity. Many men are boarding their cars and most of the vehicles have already rolled out to react to the breach. My distraction worked, but not enough. I still have those sandbag emplacements to contest to before I move any further, and those alerted patrols looks dangerous. I have to risk it.

I circled around the jungle to avoid their MGs and crawled, hugging the dirt. Creeping near them, I seems I've filled their hearts with panic. They're talking quietly on the matter of the recent attack, on how impossible that one man could do so much damage. If it's getting into them, they have to understand that they'll need to follow orders, no matter how scared they are, even if the sky is raining aliens. Anything less, then it was damn right that I should shoot them. But not now.

I scanned my surroundings again and tried to find the objective again, and I saw it. How? It's has too many antennas for my liking. It was an armored jeep, punctured with spires of comms, with four men huddled over speaking calmly at their radios. This has to be my target, and I'm now kneeling and taking aim.

Shots flew into them, and it stopped. The damn rifle jammed again! It doesn't seem to do much mayhem other than a wounded shoulder before it broke. Those remained unscathed pulled out their pistols and fired off, forcing me to keep my head down as I try to unjam it for the second time.

They all stopped firing and I could hear them shouting incoherently. The next thing I know, an engine vroomed and the wheels were kicking dirt. "Oh no you don't!" I cried out, lifting my rifle again and pulled the trigger as the command jeep drove off. My shots hadn't landed flesh, I'm afraid.

I was about to kick a fit till I saw another jeep driving by. Must be their escort, and my new ride. After clearing the barrel, I loaded a new mag and focused my shot. It hit the driver through the window and into to his neck. It skidded to a stop and the rest of the occupants tried to make their last stand. I made their last quick by giving a squeeze to each of their direction.

"I'm gonna need this more than you, pal," I said to the wounded driver as he tried to cover the hole on his throat. I pulled him off his seat and grabbed the wheel. There's a car that needs catching, and by the time I'm leaving empty handed, it's the package that's going to be missing on my persons.

Since there's only one person riding this thing, I quickly caught up with the command vehicle. The dirt road is driving me crazy, and the dust kicking was irritating my eyes, forcing me to squint. That was when the other passengers tried to pick me off by shooting through the window.

"Grr!" I grunted as the glass exploded at my face, cutting my cheek and chin. It stings like hell, but other than that, I'm fine. With my right hand gripping hard on the driving wheel and the other gripping hard on the pipe rifle, I returned fire.

That is until the gun jammed, again. "I need to feed that midget some molten steel later," I grumbled, dropping the rifle back on my lap and focused on driving.

I kept my head down whenever they try to take a pot shot at me, but I knew for a fact, and experience, that shooting through a car isn't going to be accurate unless they're on a mounted gun. Still, a pistol shot could've easily put an end to this chase.

There, I noticed that we're heading uphill, and then a plan beamed. I grabbed my bag and hustled for the bomb. "Okay." My eye was flicking from the road and the bomb, calculating through the rule of thumb. "Five… subtract…" I mouthed on what I'm pressing till I saw them disappearing from the horizon. "Equal!" After launching into the air, I jammed the can of excitement atop the gas pedal and threw myself out of the car.

The landing was as painful as I expected. Rolling unwillingly on the dirt gave me a lot of bruises, but I hurriedly turned my head up to see my jeep slamming into theirs and exploding in a fountain of fire. I couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

There wasn't anything stopping me on the way back, and when there is, I always turned towards the nearest tree till the retreating AFHL troops moved on. They're retreating as orderly so far, moving by platoon and covering each other, just like in the books. I wonder who trained these guys.

I called Torbjorn right after I destroyed the command, along with their officers, and he said we should meet at the rendezvous point. He may be there right now, but I'm too far to hurry. But, if I know him right, he'll just build as many turrets there and wait for me till the world ends, fighting the forces of hell to pass the time.

My eye scanned for more hostiles, and when I saw no one, I sprinted off. There was gun fire nearby, but for some reason it was a little light. Pistol shots? It's only been half a day now, and they've run out of ammo? With the extensive training they got, I thought they'd be smart enough to conserve ammo. Unless…

I dashed towards the source of the fire and saw a horrible sight. There were dozens of men and women and children tied up together in one line, kneeling on the ground, screaming as an AFHL soldier started executing them one by one. It was a combination of civilians, UN and Numbani troops, captured.

It was a sickening sight, and it looks like these men are in a hurry on finishing them off. They must've think that the POWs are slowing them down so they have to kill them here while they can and avoid risking them returning to their respective armies, and some of them are innocent people! I sent a text and moved forward.

I cocked my pipe gun and rushed forward. There were much more of them for me to handle, but I have to try. I let out a burst at hip and swerved my barrel to another. I fired at him, and to another, and to another in a matter of seconds. Until it jammed. It got all their attention and they all turned to fire at me. I didn't give them the satisfaction so I slammed my back against a tree.

There was too much bullets flying around, and it'll be about time before they would flank me. My teeth were turning to dust as I gritted as hard as I can. I tried unjamming the rifle, but I never got a chance. I heard it firing, so I dove forward as a rocket pulverized the tree I was taking shelter. I groaned as a huge pain on my shoulder blade erupted. A piece of wood got wedged on it.

They gave me no time to admire the painfulness of it all, because they were throwing grenades and rockets at my position. The only thing I could do is to cover my head and—

"—ck," she said. I took a gargantuan effort, but I forced my eyes open to see… I can see! Both my eyes… I saw a tent roof, and Mercy.

"Wh-" I tried to say before I cracked down on a coughing fit. I was on a bed, not very comfy, but it'll do.

"Good, you're awake," Angela said as she turned the electric fan on me. The cool breeze is tingling my sweaty face.

"The hell happened?" I asked her, looking at her face with both my eyes. Man, I sure miss that face.

She was scribbling on her medical clipboard. "Torbjorn found you with a group of escapees. You were unconscious and bleeding badly. And so…" she stopped writing, looking down. "…I did what a self-respecting doctor would do. Mr. Lindholm paid for everything, so don't worry about charges." She then stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have other-"

"Wait!" I shouted, grabbing her arm. It flared in a rack of pain, but I didn't care. She looked at me with an angry expression, but underneath that, I could see hurt, so I let go.

"Please, excuse me." She turned around and pushed through the flaps.

I waited, then I slammed my head against the pillow. I felt odd. I could've said something, but there's no words coming out from these lips. It's odd. I moved my hand to wipe the sweat off my face, and then I couldn't feel my circlet.


	4. Chapter 4

I looked up on the mirror and I can only say, "Young." I know why Sage got me regenerative tissue. For practicality, a mortally grievous wound would be healed in days, which normally takes months, and years for the mental damage. But look at me. I'm pushing forty and I still look almost just the same as I got out of that tube. Almost. Don't forget the white hair. And the scar.

Should I get Mercy to get rid of it now that I'm now on her good side? Well, 'good side' is stretching it a bit, but she always have a knack on clearing my slate. As they said before, the face of the defender of humanity must be unblemished. Yet, I'm not that face now, so I guess I'll pass. Oh well. Always wanted a scar.

The throbbing of my optics still hasn't seceded yet, and the bloody bandages on my neck and my back is making my senses uneasy, but all is very manageable. I then picked up a buzzing sound in the air and looked around to see my bag atop a chair. My hands dive into its contents. No luck. Angela must've hidden my Infiltrator Mask somewhere, but at least I got a text from Torbjorn. 'Call me,' it said.

"Hello?" asked Torbjorn after dialing his number. "76?"

"Present," I answered.

"Oh. How's that hole on your shoulder?"

"Crap, I don't know. Like someone is pouring a gallon of lava inside me each time I try to lift a finger." The sensation is unique. Everyone should try it.

I could hear snicker from the other side of the line. "At least Dr. Ziegler didn't OD'd (Over Dosed) you. Is she there by the way?"

"Haven't seen her." I don't want to be reminded of those eyes. "Thanks for passing a good word for me though."

"Funny. I was at the front lines 'til the sun sets. Only heard of ye when I got the civilian casualty reports." Well that doesn't sound right. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. They confiscated the pipe rifle when they brought you in. It's a mess now, but I'll get it fixed up when you get back."

"Huh, fine I guess." I want that piece of garbage sent to the moon gorillas. "Torbjorn, have those guys came across an Infiltrator Mask by chance? It's going to complicate a lot of things if I don't get it soon."

"That piece of old tech? No, they haven't mentioned bringing one, or that you've spontaneously changed. I'll double check just in case, but you're going to starve there. I'll send a drone to bring you some MRE, if nobody would take interest on it, that is. And if you do find it, why don't you bring it to me? You haven't recharged it yet, haven't ye."

"Yeah, my stay here wasn't supposed to be this long." But hey, I got two eyes again! I guess I could just sneak out of this camp and get back to my man cave, but I'm afraid what this guy's going to say if I ditch that midget too soon. "How's the mission? Are we getting more warm bodies to man the trenches?"

"I'll share you more details once you get your ass here. It'll take some time sorting."

"Not today." I then looked out of the window flaps. "Well, not tonight, I guess. Anything more to share?"

"There's more that I should tell you, but you have to visit my crib."

"I'll do what I can. Goodb-"

"Before you go," he interrupted. "I wanted to say… err, thanks. You've saved a lot of lives today."

"I told you I'll secure the objective. That command-"

"No, after that. Those fathers and sons couldn't made it back without you. Thanks."

"…We needed all the fingers that can pull a trigger. They'll do their part."

"I understand." I could hear a chuckle from the other line. "Text me anytime."

"See ya." I dropped the tab on the bed and took a deep breath. I then exhaled.

* * *

I slowly pushed the flaps open. Doesn't look like anybody's home. It was Angela's clinic room, and the lights are off. If my stuff is anywhere nearby, it has to be here. I strode forward using my newly healed eyes to take in the low light, just as engineered. Good thing everything's in working order, but before I get frisky, I need to check up the main ward.

It was nosier and busier than the last visit. If having full beds yesterday was bad, there are bodies writhing on the floor today, and I wouldn't be surprised if they don't stop coming. As expected, there were soldiers among the casualties, but there's also civilians shot up too. It's anticipated to suffer casualties in a firefight, they all signed up for this after all, and it's unfortunate to see innocents to get caught up with it, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. We only roll with it.

There were two guards standing beside the flaps and they haven't seen me yet, thankfully. Other than the noise and the moving shadows from the crowd, it doesn't look like anybody's going to chalk up an appointment. I can't see Angela out there, but they would've noted that she left earlier, so it's safe to say that I'm golden.

I started with the unlocked drawers first just to be sure. Angela would normally lock it, but it's the most obvious of places are normally where important things are potentially hidden. After the last drawer, I figured she must've locked it. But before I moved on, my hand came across a picture. The frame was so familiar. I lifted it up… I gently let it down. Inhale, count to four… Exhale, count to four…

My head turned back to my six. Nothing. I brought out my lock picking tools from my bag and started with the first one. Good thing there's only a few drawers and cabinets that were keyed in, but the process is an arduous one. I kept checking my six if anybody's coming in, but I can't tell if they're passing by or skirting around. My work continued unimpeded so far.

"Come on, come on," I mumbled to myself, but the contents of this one are a bunch powerful painkillers. Should I steal some? Nah, these looks like the brand new ones. The higher the grade of the medicine, the most likely it will kill the patient without supervision. But I do wish she'd be generous to give me some to get through the night +1+. I checked my back again. I let out a breath. Off to the next one.

A little push here, a little twist there and… voila! Nothing but papers. Checked my six. Cleared for the next one. There's a feeling inside of me that I'm overstaying my welcome, like I'm sitting on a time bomb. That usually is the case when you're doing some sort of a less-than-honest activity. But damn, I need that Mask.

I licked my lips as I unlocked another one and, "Jackpot." I mouthed out. A silver circlet atop Mercy's Caduceus Blaster. My hand grabbed for it and gently closed the drawe—

'What are you doing, mister?' someone asked in Swahili from behind.

My head mechanically turned to see a little boy with a blue shirt. I remembered him yesterday, the one with the black blemishes on his skin. He was holding a salted caramel bar, probably a donated treat.

I almost couldn't get a word out. Nevertheless, I blinked hard and stood up. 'Getting back what is mine,' I told him.

Before I went back to my room, he then asked, 'Who are you? Are you a friend of the doctor?'

I looked back at him and answered. 'A dead man. A dead man watching over the doctor.'

Walking inside, I placed the circlet back on my head and activated it. I made a quick note on a paper and placed it on my bed. I grabbed my things and hopped off from the window flap. Seeing that nobody saw me, I started texting Torbjorn.

+1+ He must have forgotten that he has a body that could resist most narcotics unless in high potency, which was why Angela didn't bother dulling his pain.

* * *

"After everything you did out there, it gone downhill for the AFHL," Torbjorn explained while swiping the Tactical Operations Interface +1+. "Their replacement was sort of a mix package. He committed most of his forces on the counter-offensive. Ran out of momentum when they reached my lines. Now they're all camping along the ridge here." His finger traced on the ridge with a concentrated line of red dots, which represents the enemy. "Persistent buggers, all of them."

"These guys have trained outstandingly," I replied while penning out the TOI. "Their precision, their discipline; they're a fine killing machine. For a bunch of rebels, they reacted well in the heat of battle, even without proper officers. I could tell they're seasoned combatants. No matter which way you cut it, it's going to be a hard fight."

"I have no doubts that that would be the case, but it doesn't mean I have to like it." He quickly turned his head then back at me. "Let me get some more coffee."

I nodded and looked back at my work. For now, I'm assisting Torbjorn here to filter the intelligence, and it's hard knowing so little on the battlefield. Most of the data here came from the UAVs and year old maps, which was then cross-referenced to the inflow of reports from various infantrymen. The shorty isn't part of the chain of command, but he can turn the favor by presenting reliable intel.

The thing with the UAVs was getting on his nerves. What I see here is a bunch of empty grids and blue dots, which is us, overlapping the live visuals from their cameras. And with that jungle on the way, there's little accuracy regarding on the AFHL's movement except the ridge and the outgoing savannah, which brings me into the picture.

My stylus is making red lines on the empty grid of the jungles and shading parts in the abstract area. All these outlines represent the probable enemy positions, while the shaded ones is where they are mostly concentrated. Everything I'm drawing is coming between us and the enemy's main base, and it's going to be a lot. I'm adding details in some parts, and with this on hand, the commanders leading this outfit would have a better time assigning missions to their scouts.

Which reminds me… "What do you expect me to do with this?" I asked Torbjorn as he handed me a paper cup. "I'm skilled, but not that skilled."

"What?"

"Don't you want me to cut them a new one in their new base?"

He rubbed his beard. "That's the plan, at first. But for now, we need to pave you a way before we commit more into the fight."

I took a sip at the scalding liquid. "Well ain't that dandy. You want me dead too, right? You wouldn't put me on a suicide mission if you got that much beef with me."

"Pshaw! You'll be fine! There's an army screening your advance. We just need to move forward so we can begin."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but unless we accept heavy losses and half a year, manpower needs to be tripled first. I'm thankful that you got my eye back, I really, really do, but I'm not spending another week fighting your wars. I have bigger fish to fry."

He nodded gravely. "That's why I'm heading out to Numbani. Pack that for me, will ye?" He threw a flash drive to me.

"Numbani? I thought they're already here."

"Not everybody. They're holding out on their mercs that's sitting on their walls. I have to appeal to the parliament on buying the PMCs (Private Military Corporations) to send them to the front. And with the data you extrapolated, we could show them that we have a plan to save this country if they'd be willing to cooperate."

"That doesn't sound too promising. Even if the AFHL is just a rebel group, albeit a cell of the group +2+, they're quite intimidating. Mercenaries are paid to fight, not die."

"If we pay them enough, they will."

I shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy." I then stuck up the drive and started moving files. "I'm fine sitting here all comfy-like."

He chuckled. "If you think you're skimming the heavy lifting, you're probably wrong. Probably."

I gave him the look. "The scouting and probing is very doable in the UN's part. I don't think I'll be of any more benefit other than confusing your superiors on how you get the reports."

"It's not scouting either, and the benefit is more for you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You got me a better gun?"

"Even better!" He walked to me and waved me over conspiringly with a saucy grin as if he's giving me nuclear launch codes I lend him my ear. "I'm making you… armor."

"…Armor?"

"Armor, yes! Do I have to say it twice?"

"Can't you just give me a good gun?"

"Bah!" He flipped his arms like he gave up on me and turned to the TOI. "Here." He made a few command swipes and brought out schematics of a torso carapace that almost… looks like…

"Hey! That's…" I sighed and squeezed my temples. "That's out of date. We're lucky that we haven't faced a man with energy weapons yet, because this armor's going to be nothing more than deadweight against a laser."

"Not without _my_ touch. I just need you to find me a battery pack at a junkyard south of Numbani."

"Battery. That's it?"

That was the wrong question, because his eyes lit up like fireworks. "It's a rare mini-super cell that has been developed through necessity. 40 grams, enough to power a submarine or a small city, incredible design. The Omnics haven't figure out how to maximize the nandrite capacitors around its feltrite core, but with my-"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah. No, really. Why don't you just buy the damn thing or get it from one of your armories? Why not send a drone instead of me?"

"The Omniums wouldn't produce any more of these batteries since it's potentially unsafe to-"

"Unsafe," I repeated that worded.

"I could make it work. Somehow. You can't even find it at the black market nowadays, and if you do, it cost a leg. And we're in a tight lid here. I may have built these beauties, but I'm not inclined to use them for my whims. Well, except this little car here." He then flipped the toy car on his hand then settling it down on the table.

"At least give me a good gun."

"Over here." He thumbed behind at an opened crate.

"You mean that crate? That crate with all those broken guns collected?"

"Yeah."

I glared at him. "…You want me to make one?"

"We all have different taste, ye know? Here's the manual." He slapped a wad of papers to my chest and I gave him the look. "You know how to make rifles from the ground up, right?"

"I do." Although I mostly don't need to since I could just buy it. There are things in life that you could just eat the cake without learning how to bake one.

"Oh, you need this too." He gave me a briefcase and contained—

"GODDAMMIT!" I shouted as I opened the case, and the old damnable pipe rifle appeared before me.

Torbjorn held out his arms in innocence. "Hey, I can't just give you my stuff. There's going to be questions flying around. Besides, you need a base to build your foundations. I'm sure you can find everything in that crate there, so don't be sad."

"I'm sad inside. No, rotten."

"You don't look like it. Finished yet?"

"Almost." I went back to the TOI and added a few notes before ejecting. "You got free time while in Numbani?"

"I have to oversee a supply drop after the meeting, so I got a little bit in between. Why?"

"If we're to succeed, I need you to do me a little favor." I then brought out my bag and started digging. "And if you don't do this, swear to Christ and all that is holy, prepare to have a mandatory secondary asshole."

+1+ Basically, it's a giant touchscreen on a table.

+2+ A cell would be too small for who they were facing. The forces that presented so far is nearing a battalion size. But it is true that they don't represent the whole of AFHL. There are thirty-seven other groups across Africa saying that they do.

* * *

There were a couple of guards standing around the junkyard perimeter. They're mostly here because they have another base down south just in case the AFHL would try flanking there. It's a good precaution, but luckily, there isn't much security regarding the junkyard itself, because I got in easily under the morning sun. It's not that they don't care about people stealing broken appliances; it's just that they're on the lookout for something else.

After dropping down from the fence, I crouched down instinctively and scanned the surrounding through my iron sights. Catching nothing threatening, I sprinted deep into the metal valleys. Pre-Crisis cars, rusted electric fans, pulped sheets of metal and the likes were segregated by large piles, going as far as making a hill of itself. I don't know why they haven't recycled them yet +1+, but it's not my position to argue as long as I have good cover.

As soon as I crouched next to a broken down air conditioner, I brought out my tablet to review the map. So far so good, and I'm making up time. The security drones patrolling the complex has been predictable enough to elude. A few hops of junk heaps later, I might get the batteries and make it back to Prosperity Falls after lunchtime.

Once the pair of drones moved away overhead, I popped out of my nest and before I knew it, I was down on the ground again. I haven't adjusted with my newly medicated eyes when I failed to see the silhouette straddling in the shadows.

There's an armed person sitting on a fallen tire. His head is swiveling left and right but occasionally looks at the phone on his hand. I have no idea what outfit he's in. He's not AFHL, thankfully; doesn't have those yellow armbands. He's definitely not UN, not with that unregulated uniform, and there shouldn't be a single one in this area since it's not in their jurisdiction. But he's wearing the Numbani colors. The same short sleeves, the same helmet, the same issued battle rifle, but I'm not convinced that he is one of them.

That man is white +2+.

I looked at the direction he's looking at. He has a good view on this opening and has enough distance to react to anyone rushing in. Even if I take him out of here, there's bound to be more if he's sitting here guarding. Without risking a fight, I circled around him.

And OF COURSE there's another mean motherhubber covering this opening too. Correction: motherhubbers. There's a group of them, and for good reason. They're in an open area but away from the security drones hovering above. They're a pretty diverse cast, even sporting an Omnic +3+ behind the piles tires they used as cover. There's no getting between them, so I'll just move around again.

And there's another one, and another, and another, and wha'd'ya know?! I made a full circle! I bet the guy on the phone is watching porn. As much as I hate this part, but I need a distraction. If I shoot them from here, they'll just turtle back, and that's not what I wanted. I need to be… innovative.

"Hey you!" I shouted at one of the drones overhead, and it immediately turned to me. "Power to the AFHL!" I then threw a rock, didn't hit it, and ran like hell. It doesn't have weapons, but I need to give them a good lookin'. I dove into an open refrigerator, and it smells like a thousand dry vomits. The sticky feeling on my soles doesn't do me justice either.

I waited five minutes till a squad of men, genuine soldiers, moving from one heap to another. They're now fanning into my last known position, keeping each of their backs covered. "Just a little more," I silently cheered on as they neared the mini-outpost. A few more meters and we're about to see blood.

One of the mystery men came out with his hands up and everyone pointed their guns at him and shouting. More men started to appear behind him, but their fingers were away from the triggers. The two spokesmen met in the middle and seems to be doing a shouting match, but before I could see the conclusion to this season finale, it was time for me to get up from my refrigerator and have myself a battery, cold.

The guy with the phone has his finger on his ear, a commbead probably, and he's talking to it in… polish? It's been years since I have to listen to poles, and I don't think recalling those lessons would help me in this situation. He said a few English words here and there, but I can't discern anything from it. What's their plan anyway?

These people have the decency to talk like normal people back tgere, so it'll be bad if I kill him now. As soon as he hung up, I tapped my newly furbished pipe rifle at the side of his, and said, "Yo, whas'sup?"

Leaving his unconscious body behind, I walked deeper as tall heaps of metal loomed over me. My head was in a swivel, ready to seek out targets and avoiding their surveillance cameras. As I neared the main stronghold, my eyes widened, and took cover. There before me was a group of men in civilian clothing, manning these weird towers of computers, all cabled up to a dozen Omnics. And those Omnics, linked up to a Walker +4+.

Under a pile of trash, there lies the giant head of the Walker, shaped like a fat jet plane the size of a school bus, with eight-by-eight cameras on the front. Weapon systems are still intact, at least some of them, and they sure look intimidating. The legs aren't visible, but I don't think they're detached. If that thing gets up, there's little anybody could do against it.

It's not the Walker that made me hide, because that's the very same thing that I need to jack. It's these people here trying to mess things up that terrifies me. And even worse, they might try to reawaken the damn Omnic. Which reminds me. I rummaged into my bag to grab a binary recorder. I made Torbjorn give me one in cases I need to translate the machine-lingua. It doesn't translate, so to speak, but it records the open frequencies that were generated by the Omnics. And that way I could just analyze the data later.

I placed the activated recorder back at my bag and busied myself in forming a plan. Sneaking is not option for this one, too many eyes. And it's pretty difficult to take on the armed guards stationed around this science convention. But there's one thing for sure. I need to make them stop whatever they are doing before they regret it, and I think I have a solution.

My thumbs twisted on the screen, occasionally leaning and grunting as I did my work. I was biting my tongue and my eyes widening as I performed this ass-puckering maneuver. That fist-sized car shot between another man's legs, receiving a yelp of surprise and hint of uneasiness. I then directed it through another crowd till I've gathered enough attention.

After a show of authority and after gathering the crowd, I slammed the car into one of those giant computers, alarming the users. I kept backing and sramming my car onto the computer till they made the wise choice of backing off out of fear. And before one of the guards started to move forward and probably pick the toy up, I pressed my screen.

 **POOF!** Everybody dropped on their butts as the car exploded, toppling the computer to the ground. It's not completely destroyed, but I accepted it either way. Pressing another button, I backed deeper into the shadows as more cars launched from where I propped them and it gone crazy from there.

I requested Torbjorn to build in programs into the cars to drive independently and make sure it doesn't collide into anyone, and I have to commend his masterpiece. The sight of a dozen more possibly exploding cars made the men with guns to shoot at it, and those without run from it. They screamed and cried as one of those toys looped around them, and another fainted when it jumped from a rail and into his chest. He couldn't take the shock.

One of the guards started rallying the civvies and Omnics, leading them away from the danger zone, which they have no problem complying. The rest were trying to pot shot the fist-sized fast moving vehicles. Some fired trough iron sights while walking backwards and others were hip firing and running. What's important now is that they're in a state of tunnel vision enough for me to move unimpeded.

Popping out, I sprinted in to deliver a shocking right haymaker to one of the dudes and delivered a left knee to his solar plexus. I then finished him off with a reverse kick to the head. Most responded to my antics and started firing up my ass, and good thing there's a computer to hide behind. Soon, the pressure of fighting both me and ten plausible car bombs made all of them choose to carry the wounded and unconscious and ran away. They'll regroup soon, but I won't be here when I'm finished. No siree.

"Hokay," I said, cracking my knuckles while facing the Walker's head while the toys behind me played with each other. "Let's have a hand 'n eviscerate-to-heart." It's a good thing there's a large enough hole for me to crawl into, probably from the war before, but before I could get my head in, one of the red eyes of the Walker flashed, blinding me temporarily.

Rumbling spread across the platform and I was knocked out of balance as the house-sized head rose, knocking over the many hours' worth of piled junk, and then I could see the monstrous fortress that I remembered all those years ago. Its white washed pillar like legs loomed over me, and a spike of anger crossed my eyes.

"! #%*&! %*&#%*! &%*# !" roared the Omnic, like guttural data boom box. There was no way I could take that thing head to head, not with this dinky pipe rifle, and I got up and left the scene.

I came across the sleeping beauty I bonked earlier, and I might feel bad leaving him to the death machine behind me. So I picked him up in a fireman carry and marched through the valleys. The ground jutted once a while as I felt each of its footfalls. Is it following me? I can't tell, but it's going to break this side of the country's back. It also means we're going to lose the war when that Walker is so close to the city.

I can't let that happen.

My ears picked out a moving car, and I ran faster to intercept it. Moving next to another junk hill, I saw a Humvee driving by. I threw the guy into its way, forcing the driver to hit the brakes. He's their problem now, and that would let me focus on the much bigger one.

"! &#%&!#%& &%!#%#! !" bugled the Walker as it opened up its guns from the sides of its eight-by-eight eyes. I don't know where it's shooting, but I'm going to put an end to it. The smooth polymer handle of my gun was comfortable to shoot with, and shoot I did. There's no way I'm going to bust some gears with steel-tipped bullets, and it's going to be impossible to shoot those basketball-sized camera from two hundred feet, but I got its attention.

That's what I thought at first. As I took cover behind an ice cooler, I saw four Omnics kneeling with dish antennas jutting out from their backs and pointing at the Walker. I think they're trying to communicate with it, but it must be something nasty thrown out in the pan because a fusillade of large caliber shells gunned them down.

After the fourth Omnic tried to stand and run before getting riddled with lead, I burst out of my cover and fired at the face again. Now I'm sure its focusing at me, because the ground behind me began spurting.

My back slammed against the tower of rusted cars, and my heart was beating for five thousand miles. "Let's see how yo—Guh!" The fire didn't let up. This tower began toppling against me and it forced me run into another pile.

"What the hell are you guys waiting for?!" I screamed. It takes a couple of artillery and JDAM (Joint Direct Attack Munitions) strikes in order to go toe to toe with this thing, but why are they taking so long? These old war tactic +5+ wouldn't work without fast response, but I guess it's understandable because this country hasn't have a robot attack a long time now.

I grunted as I took off into another heap and a sharp pain struck my left thigh. I made no sound on that subject however and just walked it off. It was until I successfully evaded another salvo by hiding into another junk pile that I took my wounds into consideration. I seethed as I rolled up the hem of my pants. Blood dripped down and I could see a piece of rock painfully dove deep into my flesh. I know I'm not supposed to, but I yanked the thing anyway, biting the sides of my cheek and rolled it up with bandages from my bag.

My ears then perked as I heard the Walker's guns stopped. In any other day, I would've been glad to not have my ears bleeding, but this silence concerns me. Coming out, I dived back in as soon as the war drums continue, but I opened my eyes when I felt that the subsequent beats weren't directed at me, and then it hit me. It's fighting someone else.

After feeling the pain when the adrenaline drained, I hopped out with one leg to see a dozen vehicles parked around the piles of junk, which was tactically wise so that the Walker would mostly hit the obstructions first before dealing real damage. Tanks and IFVs were moving back and forth from their cover and each time they popped out, they fired their missiles and tank shots at it. There's also infantry support with rocket launcher to back them up.

I looked at the Walker and I was glad to see that its shields isn't active. It would make it easier for a normal arty to blow a lid off from this guy, but those puny rockets won't, as experience dictates. Even without its primary plasma weapons, the Walker simply lifted one leg to another and blasted its shells on their hulls. It was painful to watch all of those men burn while they're inside their armor. What's worse, I can't do anything about it.

My ears perked as I heard the unmistakable sound of jet engines overhead. I tilted my head and smiled to see five jets in a V from the big blue diving down. They formed a staggered line with precision and each dropped a pair of bombs, yanking back for each drop. It's like watching an air show, and boy was I amazed.

Heat washed over my face as the HEAT (High Explosive Anti-Tank) bombs detonated, wave by wave, and the Walker gave out one last cry of agony, its head pulverized, melted and punctured, before its legs gave out and toppled to one side. It was over.

I was about to wave at the jets before I noticed something different. They have yellow tips on their wings, which means that it was the AFHL that helped us. I don't know what scares me most. The fact that their air force has arrived to assist this end of the earth, or the fact that they helped us.

I shook my head and ran toward the dead Walker. The guys haven't heard the news that the battle's won, because they kept shelling the damn thing. Whatever keeps them happy I guess, unless they shoot me of course.

I slid down from the crater it formed looked for a really big hole. It smells so sour in here, like travelling near the side of a volcano with your nostrils burning from all the sulfur. It sure feels like it because I was sweating a river. My hand swiped the sweat of my face as I drew near and I hissed as my hand accidentally touched its scalding surface.

I brought out a penlight and delved deeper into the Walker. "Gotta be here somewhere," I mumbled to myself as I observed the blinking lights on the walls. The insides was like a jungle of wires and stacks and stacks of silicon wafers. A rainbow of blinking light were slowly fading as the power drained. I focused the light on where my tablet is pointing at me. After pulling away the wires, I found what I'm looking for.

Exiting the Walker's head, I looked at my surroundings. They're still punishing the dead robot, and there seems to be no people observing. Satisfied, I dashed away.

+1+ It's due to the fact that there is a strike, which happened after the Crisis mind you, regarding the dead Omnics that were lain a strew on the many recyclables. Most of the workers of the company are mostly reinstated Omnics who refused to chop up their distant relatives for moral reasons. It's still prevalent today, and even more with the war looming.

+2+ Although there are Caucasian citizens in the country, very rare they have a presence in the main regular army. There are some in militia reserves forces, but the parliament has yet to enact their services.

+3+ Yes, it is confirmed that Omnics are serving in the army, but are mostly segregated to different elements.

+4+ The Borous Industries Mobile Fortress Automaton, to be precise. It's mostly called the Walker affectionately by those who were attacked by it.

+5+ Anti-Omnic weaponry wasn't fully developed half a year in the Omnic Crisis. Overwatch operators back then, five of them actually, generally has to distract large machines and buy time for air and artillery strikes to get through their armor. It wasn't the most thrilling job.

* * *

"tr41t0rs, 4ll 0f y0u," I listened to the translated monotone cries of the Walker with my earphones on. "c0nf1d3 w1th hum4ns, un4cc39t4ble."

"terminate targeting parameters," commanded by four monotone voices. "humans have zero threat value. reset targeting parameters. humans have zero thr-"

"l13s!" boomed the Walker. "n3w w0rld h4s n0 n33d 0f hum4ns. Th47 4r3 1n th3 w4y of OMNIC d3st1ny. y0u c0nf1d3 w1th Overwatch [Danger level A]. 3r4s3."

"terminate targeting parame—" and then everything else from there was static.

And then it continued, "m41n 08struct10n, r3m0ve 4t 0nc3. SCANNING. Overwatch [Danger level A] c0unt = 1. c0nf1rm3d, Private First Class Ja-"

"Was it you?" Angela asked as she pushed the flaps away.

"What?" I asked, getting comfy at the stacks of empty boxes I'm sitting on.

The late noon sun was on her back. Angela glared at me with her tired eyes, and I couldn't help but look away. "Were you the one who caused all of those deaths hours ago?"

I hung my head, then looked back at her. "And so what if I do? What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I just pity you."

"Good luck with that." We stared at each other for a good long second.

"Why did you do it?'

I shrugged. "I showed up, I guess. The bot recognized me, it all gone downhill from there. It still thinks that he's still in the war, and he fought and killed, and died. It did all of those things even though…" even though he's fighting alone. Everyone is trying to convince him to stop, but he didn't listen. And he was killed off by the very people who hated his kind… Well wax me nostalgic, a tear fell from my eye.

I was surprised on what happened next. Mercy gently took off my circlet and brushed my tears off. Her deep blue eyes were full of concern, and I couldn't bear to look at them any longer. Even after all this time when we all left each other, she still…

"Now that's just embarrassing," I said, taking my mask back, but I didn't put it on.

"I… I don't know all the details, but you tried to fix it, right?" Silence. "I'll be… I'll be going now." She then stood up, and I gently grabbed her hand.

"Tell me, Angela," I said to her. "Do I look like a bad person to you?"

Her eyes shifted, as if trying to find a way out. She just sighed and kneeled at my level. "Comma… 76. I don't know what to think about you. When I first heard about you, I thought you're just another thug trying to exploit the chaos. And when I… and when I realized who you were, I… I refused to believe in it."

I squeezed her hands. "Angela, if you knew what I've been through, if you've seen what I've seen-"

"How do you think it all ends?" she asked, coal was beginning to kindle in her eyes. "A parade? A trophy? A medal? Do you want a day to commemorate this crowning moment? After you bring down your case, with all the solid and incriminating evidence you can find, you expect people to get together and all say, 'Holy crap, he was right all along! We should have listened to the guy.'"

"I wanted to avenge Overwatch. I admit, this anger of mine wouldn't go away for the life of me, but I wanted to stop who's responsible because they needed to be stopped. And so that, if there's another Overwatch, another team with another name, I don't want them to suffer the same fate."

"…I lost all hope for you Jack." She stood up and pulled her hand away from mine, her eyes were cold. "Goodbye." She turned and left.

I waited, and waited… I plugged back the earphones on and listened. "c4lling r31nf0rc3m3nt. t0 m3 my br3thr3n! t0g3th3r, w3 4r3 l3g10n!"


	5. Chapter 5

_My head drooped in further and further down knees and I might end up looking at my balls. It's been day three in no-sleep land, featuring this dumb target practice manning this HEMP (High Electro Magnetic Pulse) turret, pointing nowhere in particular. It's not like I hate waiting for killer robots to pulverize my ass. Three days, I have to admit, makes a man crazy, no caffeine involved. Theoretically, I could stay awake the whole year given how improved my glymphatic system and lymphatic cells are, but it's just so unnatural to_ not sleep.

 _Come on, you are spending the middle of the night in Africa! The stars a shinin', mosquitos a buzzin', and just feel all that humidity! Not very exciting, isn't it. Was hoping to find a lion, and perhaps, you know, a live one. I turned my head around to see Torbjorn listening intently on the radio at the driver's seat. I could listen too, but there's no point for me to do that sort of thing. Couldn't speak the language even if I wanted to. Besides, we got Ana for that._

 _Which reminds me. I moved my hand to my commbead but then I stopped. Me and Reinhardt ran out of conversation topics since yesterday, from our favorite guns, what we did in high school and debating the best Scooby-doo movie. It's still an ongoing debate, and I don't feel like bringing that topic up lest I ruin our friendship further._

 _Sighing, I made my last check on this overly complicated machine gun. I dropped the handles, let it point skyward and laid my ass against the truck's roof. I gazed over my wristwatch, and yep, still barely budged since the last time I checked. I looked out on my mono-visor and saw the zoomed-in form of the big guy a hundred feet to the front._

 _Torbjorn already set up unhackable, so to say, cameras in for miles around, so I really don't get why we need human eyes to form a picket. Maybe the big guy wants to be alone, and this is his polite way of getting his way of it. Still, there's already a sleep deprivation immune corporal at his back. He could've just asked me to be the picket and let him sleep for all I care… I should stop thinking about sleeping._

 _And then I heard something crunching behind me, and I took a look and said, "Aw, crap, you damnable midget! You always talking about 'ration our friggin' food, and I look back to see you breaking it? Practice what you preach, man."_

 _He looked back at me from the driver's seat, annoyed with oatmeal flakes from the bar on his hand spreading on his beard. "What's it to ye? I got a nervous habit and I'm obligated to satisfy it." He then refocused on the laptop on his hand and tightened his headphones. "Besides, I'm expending a real amount of energy trying to pinpoint this."_

 _That raised an eyebrow from me. "Funny. I, uh, I think I remembered that all we do is to damn stay!" He didn't replied. It just got me more annoyed, but I gave up and sighed, laying down my back on the roof, my eyes on the stars._

 _With our fearless leader gone, our only commanding officer is that kraut sitting over the distance. None of us, except maybe that guy, has any experience in fighting them bolt bags, but how does these people know rankings? If it were age and experience, then Reinhardt would be the obvious choice. Yet, we're meant to fight and shoot other humans, not metal boxes, so I think we're in an equal playing field._

 _Next would've been Torbjorn, but that guy isn't even military. He's just some shorty making a bad name in the black market before we gathered him up. Not that I don't appreciate the rides and guns we get, but he's not officer material._

 _That came down to Gabe and Faheera, and she would've been a good choice too if she hadn't recently retired from giving birth to her kid two years ago. Still, I could feel field experience from her. And then again, snipers and specialist are a niche role. At least she knows how to break language barriers, and cultural ones too._

 _And there's Gabe, oh Gabe. I wonder what those two are doing. They promised to come back this night, and now it's friggin' early in the morning. Sure, they know their stuff and all, but I'm just staring at the stars thinking who should lead this gang once one of us dies. I wouldn't want to think about them dying on me, and yet this is expected in a war._

 _I slid down to the truck's floor and rubbed my eyes, deeper. There's no point on doing nothing but unproductive sitting, so I tapped the back window behind me and said, "I'm maneuvering a combat dump. Permission?"_

 _He just waved without looking at me and I just shrugged. Taking a shovel, a box and a roll of tissue, I vaulted out of the truck and moved somewhere far away. I've been holding this crap in for a long time after all._

 _When I came back, Torbjorn was waving me over from the window. Why can't he just use the comms like a normal person? He said it himself that their hack-proof. Whatever. I dropped all my things and went over to see the little guy opening his door. His eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep._

 _He handed me his headphones, saying, "Listen to this."_

 _I placed an ear pad next to my ear and listened. And listened… "I… I think it's sarge."_

" _Knew your ears could do the job." He smiled. "It's all whispers to me. So what's she saying?"_

 _Ana's speaking sub-vocally, but I could decipher it easily. "I think they're ready for a pickup. Should we get Reinhart?"_

 _With that, the big guy came over and we relayed what we heard from sarge. He nodded and took an electronic ATV to go in. We're left here with our minds and hearts on whether or not they could make it back, so while we wait, we readied our weapons and check for short circuits and high energy outputs, like times and times again. All in all, we kept everything tight for the next hour or two._

" _I see them!" I told Torbjorn while on the turret._

 _Dust kicked up in the dark as they revved towards us. "Set all the sentries to shoot on sight," Ana ordered from the radio. "All of them. Now."_

" _I'm on it!" affirmed Torbjorn, and I could hear a thousand gears moving from around the jungle._

" _Fifty plus coming hot on our six," Reinhart reported with his thick accent. "Bastion Recon-models at the most and some Plugs."_

" _Roger that," I said as I turned my turret on. It's humming a blue glow on the sides, the vents twitched with excitement and I could feel my blood pumping hot. I looked at Ana, fixing her bonnet and her rifle, ran towards a tree and began climbing it._

" _I'm calling the guys to begin their run," he announced as our sentry turrets started popping a cacophony of bullets. Reinhart disembarked from his ATV and slammed his back against a tree, shaking it vigorously, his hammer on the ready._

 _Then it ticked on to me. "Where's the commander?" I asked._

" _Do not worry about him," Ana said from the comms. I could hear her grunting as a sniper round flew into the distance. "He shall return in short notice."_

" _Damn show off," I said as I trained my eyes on a shadowy and mechanical target from afar. "I believe he got a team to lead?"_

" _Focus, private," Reinhart calmly said, even though he forgot about my promotion to corporal prior to this mission. "He says to hold this area till he gets back, and until he does, I'm in charge. Now, you fire on my mark. And only my mark."_

" _Affirm." I pressed the sides of my mono-visor and the sky blue tint of my sight spotted red markings on my probable targets. They're fazed on the sentry turret ambush, but not for long. I could shoot them from the distance, but I'm not going to disobey orders just to see the mission fail. Not now. Not with three days of waiting._

" _I see a Plug," Ana reported in sotto voce._

" _Leave it alone," our senior said with a gruff tone. "It is mine. On my mark." I aimed at the first group of Bastions trudging through the hail of bullets. Some were limping with deep dents and bright sparks, but most of them are fine from the barrage. They must've been modified from the 5_ _th_ _edition to resist that kind of punishment, but it's not going to be enough when they face me. "Mark!"_

 _Adrenaline shot up as soon as I pulled the trigger, jerking my arm before I steeled them in. Each blue shot on my opponent turned their circuits inside out, shutting them down permanently. My hyper reactive pupils helped me switch from one target to another, showering a precise death like a clumsy surgeon._

" _They're falling back!" Torbjorn informed from the driver's seat, thumbing his tabs to get in touch with the right cameras and sentries._

" _Damage?" the big asked._

" _Fifty-two per cent of our defenses are inoperable. Orders?"_

 _A pause. "Stay put. Visual on the Plug?"_

 _He checked at his laptop. "It backed away along with the rest."_

" _Shame... Alright Torbjorn. Go ahead and set u-"_

" _Plug coming in hot!" Ana shouted, firing off one and jumping off the tree. If my reason why she ditched that good perch were true, I would wish I were wrong._

 _Rumbling shook the truck and I rebalanced myself enough to adjust my aim towards Ana's last position. The shakes grew more and more intense, like nearing a seven mag. I was soon rewarded, and I don't feel rewarded, by the large abomination barreling over the jungle floor and crushing the innocent trees into splinters._

 _It stood like a grotesque millipede, only that the arms and legs were everywhere. I could see each part of it with eyes/cameras with multicolored bulbs and light burning menacingly, and necks and limbs twitching as they coordinate their movements. About as wide as a car and almost the length of half a football field, it's a mighty feat to behold. The Plug is a collection of dissembled but operable Omnics that was too broken down to benefit spare parts; thought that it's much efficient to make a new one rather than repairing another as they reasoned. And so they decided, all of the dismembered Omnics, to weld themselves each other in an orgy of metal and destruction that lay before my eyes._

 _Static rang out deafeningly from each of their speakers, wriggling and twitching in unison. I soon realized that each Omnic welded there coordinated in perfect synergy, which hundreds and thousands of individual minds striving to take control of each other is a matter of impossibility. And yet here it is, all of which are thinking on how much they want to taste human flesh._

" _Graaaaah!" Reinhart shouted as jets from his back boosted him towards the beast he's destined to defeat._

" _Cover him!" Ana ordered as she whipped out her pistol and fired mass-reactive explosive bullets at the second wave of Bastions._

" _Covering!" I complied, firing at our flanks. I wouldn't be much help by disabling one Omnic at the time in that amalgam monstrosity, so I'll keep these goons away with saturated pulse fire on their direction. Torbjorn was too busy with his computers to coordinate their efforts into throwing our enemies off balance._

 _Bullet fire in this little part of the world would've made a normal man bleed their ears from rupturing hundreds of times, and a few dozen nosebleeds with the thick miasma of cordite and other strange chemicals in the air. Blindness is also a possibility too. It goes to say the light show isn't as pretty when up close and personal._

" _Left side, left side!" Torbjorn shouted, and I made an arc on a group of Bastions, and caught them just in time before they set up in a sentry config. I kept firing on the stragglers to make them pay on walking through the open._

 _But just before I could shoot anything else, I told Tobrjorn, "Drive up! Drive-"_

 _He got the idea, stepping on the metal. It almost threw me off from my already cherry red turret. Whatever the case, he got out just in time before the Plug crushed us and our hapless career. The big guy has his hammer stuck on to its body and couldn't get out of it because dozens of limbs already claimed him as one of their own._

" _Disgusting… bags… of cogs!" He grunted as he tried to loosen the grip. He tried extending his steel riot shield but I know that armor won't last. I could hear it squirming and creaking from here._

" _Just hold on!" I said, spraying out fresh HEMPs on his surroundings while Torbjorn desperately shot his rivet gun from his seat. Many circuits got fried and melted, but there's a whole lot more for me to handle. Each bot I shot down from each orifice, another arm would shot up and grab Reinhart further. And then this happened to me._

 _Annoyed by my presence, the Plug wisened up and grabbed hold of the truck. I tried to focus my fire onto the Omnic parts, and my panic rose when I knew it wasn't enough. They pulled and pulled, and they managed to grab the hem of my coat. I hurriedly unbuttoned my clothing so they can eat it for all I care, grabbed my HPR and left the truck. Torbjorn was smart enough to follow me._

 _As soon as I got grounded, dirt kicked up around me, forcing me to drag the dwarf behind the remains of a dead Omnic. I looked around saw that there's only a few of them left, but the Plug is going to kill us if we don't do something quick._

" _On your right!" Ana shouted as I lowered my raised rifle. She dropped low next to us, fixed her bonnet and lifted her rifle to her chest. "Got any bright ideas on getting him down?" She indicated on the Plug rolling around as it tries to get a better position in order to squeeze the life out of Reinhart better. Crusader armor or no, he's going to give soon, and we all know it._

 _I popped out to let out a burst of pulse rounds in the nearest group of Bastions, hitting no one. As soon as I saw that the truck was released when they realized there's no occupants, a germ of a plan formed._

" _Torbjorn," I said to him while he fired his rivets._

 _He took a glance at me and asked, "Huh?!" A little louder than usual._

 _Once the ringing of my ears stopped, I told him, "Can you overload the batteries in the HEMP?"_

 _His eyes widened in terror. "That's going to destroy our entire tech!"_

 _I nodded, serious-like. "Exactly. Can you do it?"_

" _But our spare equipment is kilometers away. An explosion that bi-"_

" _Whatever it is you two are discussing," Ana said quickly, "just do it."_

 _The shorty looked at her with deep apprehension. "We're going to lose in the long run without them."_

" _Mission's going to fail anyway, so get on with it!" she shouted as she fired a round with a satisfying static death throe. And that was the end of that._

 _Sighing, he propped up, ready to run. "Cover me! Morrison, with me!" He vaulted out of the dead bot._

" _On your tail!" I quickly said, following as ordered. I took out a couple of EMP grenades and threw at their vicinity, scattering them in dead panic._

 _The minute Torbjorn climbed the truck from the hood, I reloaded my battery and began dispensing more pulse on the incoming arms and legs from the thrashing Plug. I conserved my ammo this battery has left and I knew each one counts as a score._

 _Now that he's on the turret, he began rewiring the mechanism. The spot of concern from me goes to Reinhart, who hasn't said another line of profanity the whole time we're here. His armor kept creaking and sparking it hurts to see him this way. I've only met him for a week now; I can't let a teammate die._

 _The limbs are making another advance, and even if I emptied this battery, I knew I couldn't make it. I dropped my HPR and took an EMP grenade, one in each hand, and jumped into the truck, next to Torbjorn._

 _While there's a deep inside my mind that I'm going to blow my hands off, that part in my brain must've bee inaccessible. I simply spread my arms as if protecting Torbjorn from harm, all the while I'm shouting, "DO IT!" All the limbs from the giant metal worm hesitated along the way, recognizing what I got in store for them._

 _But they closed in anyway, and the only thing I could do was to shut my eyes. A kick of pure energy knocked me forward, burning my back, making me screaming pain. And when I thought I was going to be torn limb from limb by the Omnics, I was surprised to eat dirt._

 _Heat, sparks, screech, screams, rumbling, static… silence. I could hear only nothing. Only but the embers and the croaking of metal around me. I groggily opened my eyes. There was jungle fire and soot. The smell of burning plastic and metal was nearly overwhelming, but I'm more concerned on our predicament._

 _I tried to get up, but I grunted and fell down as I felt the intense pain at the back of my neck. If it's a first-degree burn, I'll survive it. And for now, I had to push my way out of this floor. With a huff, I lifted myself and assed the situation. A little hard when there's too much smoke to consider. And then I noticed Tobrjorn on his back a few feet away from me._

" _You alright?" I asked as I shook his shoulder._

" _Groouuaaaah…" he groaned._

" _I'll take that as a yes. Come on, we got to find the others." I was about to pull him up, but then he pointed in front of him._

" _Look out!" he shouted, and we both screamed as the Plug coiling around us. I tried to find where my gun is, but there's a nagging feeling that even if I found it, it wouldn't've save us in time. We made it bleed grease however. It wasted no time as the death coil closed in deeper and deeper until—_

 _A fleeting shadow started forming, and I definitely knew what's coming, hence why I dived on the ground with my arms around my head. A second later, hundreds and hundreds of shotgun bullets fired at every direction; it's a damn miracle we never got hit by the ricochet. The noise of every shot made not only were damaging my ears, but they're also turning my insides into mush with the shockwave carrying it like a stick of dynamite blowing up._

 _I thought it would never end, but when it did, it took an effort to reopen one eye. Surprise and relief washed over my body as I saw the remains of the Plug. All around me, the snake like body turned into a steaming pile of swiss cheese, each hole seemed like it was breached by thermite charges. And there's only one out there that could've done that._

" _Reyes," I breathlessly said as the very guy pulled out his shells. When he heard me, he turned around with a smug look, and I couldn't help but smile back. "You know that a leader should've been looking out for his team, you know?"_

" _And I trust this team they could handle a few robots while I'm away," he said as he pulled my arm and Torbjorn's, who was shaking his head to get his bearing. "Uh, you going to use that?" He pointed at my hands._

" _Oh." The EMP grenades haven't gone off. I think it's because I forgot to pull the pins. "Nah, just like to hold it, is all." I placed them back on my bandolier._

" _Wait a minute," Torbjorn groggily said, shaking his head one more time. "Where's Reinhart?"_

" _Over here!" Ana shouted from afar. "I need help removing his armor first, though."_

" _Well… we'll talk later." Torbjorn gave a salute and went towards the rest of our team._

" _So what happened, sir?" I asked once we're alone. "Mission a success?"_

" _Not quite." He then pulled out a detonator from his pocket, and he has a mischievous grin to back it up. "But it is now." He squeezed the trigger, and then a click. When nothing happened, we looked our surroundings, and the only I could do is to cross my arms with an eyebrow raised._

" _Well?"_

 _His eyebrows furrowed. "Right…" he clicked again, "now." He clicked again. "Okay, now. Now?" He kept clicking and clicking the detonator till a nice_ _ **Crump!**_ _reverberated from afar. "See?" he said with hands on his hips, trying to salvage the situation. "AA (Anti-Air) is down. What's the ETA on the bombers?"_

" _We signaled them just fifteen minutes ago, I think. Fifteen more and they're about to drop."_

 _He nodded at my report. "Gather the team around. We're moving out as soon as we resupplied."_

" _Yeah, about that." I scratched the back of my head, which I winced when I touched a burned part. "We have a little equipment failure." But my voiced was drowned out from the low flying jets._

* * *

The jets overhead pulled me away from my sleep. AA missiles launched soon after, and then silence enveloped in this room again. I hate it when I have to take a stroll down the memory lane, which I normally don't mind since most dreams shimmer out moments after waking up. This one though, it's not going away because I knew where it happened.

I got out of my room and almost fell down. I grabbed my leg; it healed quite nicely, but it's a little stiff. Good thing that it's just a shrapnel, because a bullet that size would've tore it right off.

Huffing, I looked outside the few occasional windows this building has +1+. It was about dawn now; the entire base and the jungle beyond it is blanketed in a light blue cast. They haven't dropped anything, thankfully. Probably just to scout out the area again. But it did rustle up the men. Seeing that there's no more action going on, I went back to sleep.

After a healthy, and unpalatable at best, breakfast, me and Torbjorn spent our morning in the armory, cleaning and optimizing these guns because I wouldn't do my other job +2+. Other times, I customized my pipe rifle to best suit my needs, but I can't improve it more than it already is without new parts.

Once I'm done reassembling a rifle, I sighed and looked at Torbjorn. He's currently trying to put this hot metal stick on a microchip. Steam was coming out on each touch, his eye whirring on each act. He's focused as hell, I could tell.

"Hey, Torbjorn."

His face is in control, but I bet he can burn chips on his sleep. "Yeah?"

"It's been four days now since… you know. Any new info on the Walker, or the mercenaries trying to mess with it."

He shrugged. "Same as always. Mercenaries' from somewhere in East Europe hired by multiple corporations here in Africa. Their employers are still in questioning, and you can guess how long _that_ would take. As for the Walker, still in pending. It's from the Crisis, manufactured in the Singapore Omnium before it shut down and crossed the Indian Ocean through those island FOBs, but that's just it."

"Guess it is." I placed down my pipe rifle, took a briefcase beside me, and opened up my HPR. It's all dismantled, but reassembling it is easy, for me at least. And then a thought came to me. "How about the first Walkers? Did they have any comments on this?"

He tilted his head. "We tried to get in touch with them. Still in pending too, though." And his eyes lit up. "That reminds me the time we…" We both looked at each other, and he was the first one to drop his gaze. "Yeah, we shouldn't, uh, talk about the past."

"I don't know." I scratched my cheek. "I think there's a connection to it somehow."

"But after we busted their Omniums, all the Walkers went straight to South America, but this one didn't."

"That happened." During our first month as Overwatch, the team was first tasked to disable the outlying Omniums here in Africa. Even with the constant harass of AFHL guerrillas decades back and the remainder of the coalition's military forces, Africa was the least contested among the rebelling Omnics. An easy picking as I could say. The UN knew that as long as the Omnic presence in the continent would mean the downfall of humanity in the long run, and this is where Overwatch came in. "Maybe they thought it was too damaged to be brought along."

"Wouldn't surprise that it did. I thought we destroyed the survivors once we finished our business here back then." He sighed. "Boy, those were hard times."

Indeed it does. When we failed to coordinate our attacks on the first push against their Omniums, 80% of the air force were decimated even though we knocked out their primary AAs. We lost the funding from most of the African Union despite all ended well weeks after. Plus, after the Walkers immigrated to South America through the trans-Atlantic FOBs, thirty-three of them, those loss of funds cost us a lot. Good thing their advance stopped once and for all at the borders of Mexico.

"What about those Omnics in Asia?" I asked. The submersible ones were the trickiest. "Have they made a statement?"

"Why, yes they did." He took out a tablet and swiped it. "Eight hours ago. They are 'outraged' by the death of another 'esteemed' Omnic. They are going to avenge it's death soon, they said." He chuckled and went back to his little project, the hissing methodical.

"It's bad to underestimate them, you know." They still fighting a war they already lost, and the fact it failed to deter them means something.

"I'm not. I'm not. But they're not our problem… yet." He then blew the chip and picked it up with a tweezer, setting it down on his design's innards. "One at a time, that's what I say. The AFHL comes top on the list, so we better finish it tonight before we move on."

"Tonight?" Then my eyes widened. "Wait, it's happening tonight? What happened to the timetable?"

He proceeded to turn the screw. "Just got debriefed as soon as I got up. The pool's filled enough, so they decided the sooner we end this the better."

"Damn, why didn't you tell me about this crap?" I emptied my case to the table and started reassembling the HPR.

His brows scrunched as he focused on his work. "I was busy getting all of my guns done in time. I mean, why do ye think I never got breakfast?"

"I don't know, maybe you eat at your room."

He shook his head. "Yeah. Sorry it slipped out of my mind, but you better be ready tonight. Once this raid is over, you're going to prevent a war for a whole nation, maybe others too."

"That's not that simple, Torbjorn." I stopped assembling my gun. "Even if we killed and captured every last member of these people, the AFHL will always be around as long as there is an Omnic in the planet. They're an idea, and ideas can't be killed."

He looked at me credulously. "I remember you saying that, well, on how to win a war isn't about having the other side beaten but to annihilate them. To raze their very existence from history, to crush their triumphs and attainments, to leave no trace on who or what they are. There's no betting that anybody could get back up from that. That's how wars are won."

I raised an eyebrow. "I said a lot of things before, but I'm surprised you remembered that part." Or phrased it that way. "But can we actually do that?"

He just shrugged and smiled coyly. "Guess we can't, eh?" He closed the case and waved me to come closer. "But I can help you get ready."

"You mean it's done?" I pointed at the thing he's holding. "You said it'll take days."

He raised his hands. "Schedule ruined it. Nevertheless, I'm much better under pressure."

"That's what I said when there's an exam. Give it to me." I stood up and he placed the combat vest onto me. That's it. A combat vest, a sheen of black, nothing more, but this has been the exact same one I used to wear on missions back then. I touched the fine texture of the dense material weaved into the clothing. "Promise me the shield would work?"

"It's a promise well kept," he reassured me with a cheeky grin as he pulled the last strip. "Want to try it out?" He pulled out a BB gun and started to pump it.

"Sure." I went into the briefcase and slapped the Tactical Visor in place of my Infiltrator Mask. I then tapped the sides of my highly advance optics and opened a menu.

Once I've installed the program, I then heard a computer in a woman's voice saying, "Orgone systems online."

"Okay, hit me," I told Torbjorn.

He nodded and aimed at my head. Say what you will on why he's trying to shoot me on where my armor isn't but the results would surely turn some heads. As soon as he popped a pellet, a translucent light green field appeared right in front of me, deflecting the little ball to the corner. He then proceeded to pepper my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, my pelvis, my legs, and my foot. The same results.

"Turn around," he said as he loaded more bullets. With my back against him, I heard him popping more BB rounds, and yet I couldn't feel a thing.

"You outdid yourself this time, Torbjorn. But can it stop a _real_ bullet?"

He scoffed as he dropped the toy gun on the table and proceeded to type on his laptop. "That's just a testing phase on the reaction time. Of course it's going to stop a bullet. The Vishkar would claim all they want that they reinvented on hard-light technology, but my Orgone plasma is a direct competitor."

"Why don't you sell it then?"

"Too expensive, and highly experimental +3+." He then looked up from his computer. "As long as you don't gamble on taking on an RPG directly, you'll be fine."

"And?"

"And don't stress the processing power too much. She's still inexperienced, you know."

"I'll try to dodge bullets then." I stretched my arms. It seems to fit nicely, comfortable even. "Man, I miss wearing this baby." I patted at my armor.

"You have such a nice body."

"That seems… what?" I looked at Torbjorn, but he was busy with his laptop. "Torbjorn, is everything okay?"

He looked at me, confused. "Huh?"

"I'm sure he's fine," said the computer…?

"Uh…" I touched my armor.

"Oh, want to get personal?" it said in a most flirty manner.

"Ah." I gripped on the zip.

"76," Torbjorn calmly said. "There's no need to be rash."

"That tickles," it said.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" I screamed, trying desperately to break out of it. And the rest was history

+1+ Windows in military areas generally are like this to avoid sniper fire and deny an entry point to those who intends to jump through bulletproof glass.

+2+ Prior to this, Torbjorn reasoned to the UN command that the disguised 76 as the luckless Jason Marsh is a photographer/reporter on a well-known, and highly fallacious, German news TV program, granting him access in the base as long Torbjorn watches over him. 76 avoids speaking too much to others because his German accent is bad.

+3+ First phases on the implementation of the Orgone Shield System resulted on high mortality rate due to processing imbalance. Thus, the project was canceled, until today of course.

* * *

I hurried back to the medical tent in Prosperity Wells and saw the sober sight of mounting casualties. Sighing, I tried to go to Angela's office but only saw a long line of appointments. Maybe I could strike an interview or something. I still have a camera with me. It's a digital, but I heard professionals uses this all the time.

I shook my head, thinking, this isn't going to work. It'll just feel guilty for cutting in line for people who needed the doctor more than I do, or deserve more than I do. I mean, who am I kidding? Defeated, I was about to go back to the base when I heard a voice, "What are you doing here?"

My hand almost reached for my chest, and I couldn't figure out if I'm reaching for my camera to save face or my imaginary Omnic armor that terrifies me +1+. I turned around to see Angela with a dumbfounded look, carrying a large case, but she averted her gaze at me as soon as I turned.

"Miss Angela, well, I…" I looked at the people around me. "Do you want to talk in private?" I quickly looked at the long line. "If you're not busy today, I mean."

There's a big reason why she would say no to me right now; I gave her that ammunition. Probably loaded and cocked her gun while at it. But she surprised me that she said, "I guess I could. Can you wait for me after I drop this?"

The only place private around here is her room, which I soon found out was the same one I ended up the first time I got knocked out in Africa. And it made me feel bad when I realized there's only one bed here. Well, too late to regret that now, but I have a chance to set at least one thing right.

She sat on her bed; my bloodstains are still there. I could tell she looked as bit as uncomfortable as I would've imagined her to be, but I'm glad she accepted my invitation.

So I clasped my hands, rubbed at it intently to resist the morning chill and started, "Angela, I, uh, I wanted to say sorry. To everything."

"…" She kept silent, her eyes not meeting mine.

I continued. "If it's the part that I faked my death, and the part I never contacted anyone of you, I hope you could find it on your heart to forgive me. You wouldn't, would you?"

"…" Her face tensed.

I sighed again and closed my eyes. "That's okay. It's unforgivable and selfish to fight this war of mine alone. I would've love to fight with you guys again." Then I opened my eyes. "But you have to know I have the right to be selfish, for once." Her face contorted slightly. "I don't want to drag more people into the mix, so I think… no, I know why this has to be me only. I'm just saying this because… this may be the last time we'd see each other."

"Overwatch would still be here," she said for the first time, inaudibly, "if you said you were alive."

"That's not going to solve our problems," I reasoned with her, my voice slightly desperate. "Even if I rallied everyone, you knew there's bound to be a turncoat among us. I'm doing this to avoid whatever it is that has happened back then from repeating."

She looked at me, her face hurt. "But we could've made a difference, even how small the chances was. Didn't you said _we_ would be there for each other?"

A moment of pause, and then I shook my head. "I'm sorry that I said that. At least this way, only one would die in this war. I don't know how to say this, but I wanted to say goodbye."

"Then go die alone," she venomously said, walking out. "I'm done crying for you, so spare me the heartache."

+1+ Both, probably.

* * *

While in the Stryker, I removed my Infiltrator Mark in place of my trusty Tactical Visor. I relayed the map and ran it through again. We're almost at the drop point, just almost a mile away from the terraformed +1+ airfield. Sun had set hours ago, but I knew the AFHL is still alert somewhere, and my job includes making sure to turn that into our advantage.

I pulled out my Omnic armor and I couldn't help but flinch when touching it. Torbjorn said that only a processing power of an Omnic is needed to effectively bring out the shields. It doesn't mean I have to like it though.

"Gory?" I called out the machine inside my clothing, but I gave up after five seconds.

Putting it on, I was about to cover it up with my iconic jacket when it spoke. "Nice meeting you Soldier: 76. Who can I hide you from tonight?"

"Hide?" Oh yeah. Forgot this Omnic came from one of the dismantled Blackwatch members +2+. Too bad it couldn't remember anything else. "Oh, leave that to me. Just keep those shields ready, Gory."

"Roger roger," it cheerily said.

I rubbed the sides of my ears. "You sure nobody's hearing this?"

"Unless you want to open an open broadcast. Would you like me to connect to one?"

"What? No need." I sighed. I really don't want to get meddled because someone wants to help… Never mind. "Just do what you're told and we're golden."

"You two make up now?" Torbjorn asked from the driver's seat.

I gave him a thumb up, even though he couldn't see it from here. "Peachy. ETA?"

"Six minutes. Hold on." I left him to whatever else he's doing as long as he doesn't drive us into a ditch.

"You ready for this Gory?" I asked my armor as I rechecked my equipment under the dim light.

"Don't know what we're doing, but I'm ready to eat bullets. Do you?"

"Just take my share."

Okay, here's what we got. A pipe rifle with five forty round 7.62 mm magazines including the one already loaded, an HPR with four twenty-five pulse round batteries, six Helix rocket pods, a SMAW (Shoulder-Launched Multi-Purpose Assault Weapon) with four extra rockets concocted by Torbjorn himself +3+, a combat knife, emergency flares, improvised tin can grenades, improvised tin can smoke grenades, an IED (Improvised Explosive Device), my tablet, and a first aid kit. My Tactical Visor can work on the navigation, surveillance and communication paraphernalia. With all this combined, I feel heavy.

"Disembark!" Torbjorn signaled me and I nodded.

Opening the hatch, I saw the rest of the unmanned convoy following our tail and the savannah rolling as we sped up. It's Torbjorn's job to set up artillery and anti-air support for this distraction mission to work, and he's more comfortable on using unmanned drones rather than imperfect humans, or Omnics. Without further ado, I jumped out of the moving vehicle and landed in a perfect roll.

But when you have that rocket launcher on your back, what you see wouldn't be the same on what I feel. I shook it off as the dust from the moving convoy clouded me. Under the cover of it, I sprinted to a safe distance and consulted the map just in case Torbjorn dropped me somewhere in Timbuktu.

Satisfied that I don't have to walk long, I headed towards the nearest target, letting the tall grass of the hills and the nightly shroud to hide me. Slowing down to observe, I spotted a sparkle in the horizon. My visor told me it's just water from afar, but I wanted to satisfy my curiosity.

Approaching the area, sweeping my pipe rifle at possible points of attack, I looked down on a small watering hole meant for the wildlife. I could also see a sign there saying both in English 'Don't not litter'. Ignoring the wrongness of it, I looked at the water and saw my reflection, and I could only say, "I'm back, baby."

Seeing my old self again, besides the other obvious changes. I don't think it matters that I would let the world know that Soldier: 76 is out strolling in Africa. Probably beneficial to me so that I could throw them off on what my real motives are. It'll give me an edge.

"Oh, yes you are," said Gory.

I shook my head. "You ruined the moment," I teasingly told it and continued onwards.

Miles later, I heard jet engines from afar. My visor picked up a pair of aircrafts taking off. They're going to have another bomb run, but that might be the last one we're through with tonight.

Reaching my target, I saw a quartet of men huddled near a fighting position, joking on duty, comfortable to be behind the lines for once, which to be honest, was understandable. The heaviest of the fighting is occurring kilometers behind us, so there's simply no reason to worry about deep strikes. There's simply no reason not to be disciplined in a war zone, and that would cost them their lives.

"You ready?" I asked in whispers.

"Just do the leg work, and I'll do my fair share," Gory said.

Nodding, I cranked my fire selector from safety, single-shot, burst, to rock n' roll. "I got targets in my sights," I said in a whispery tone, pressing the side of my visor. Data streamed endlessly in an orange light. No human could discern the meaning of them, but that's what I'm here for. I stood up, aimed and fired.

Standing over at the carnage that I've done, I've spotted the RPGs they're storing in this hole. I dropped down, ignoring the bodies, and gathered every single useful thing into one heap. Making sure they won't fall down, I placed the IED smack dab in the middle and moved away from the fighting position. When I'm confident about my distance, I then squeezed the detonation switch and watched the fireworks.

Of course that's not going to satisfy me. I readied my SMAW while waiting in the bush. My visor then picked up a heat signature from a distance and I knew these guys are the first responders. A Pre-Crisis APC strolled alone from afar, eager to investigate and contain the catastrophe done. Unlucky for them, I want more people to respond to this, so I hefted my rocket launcher and shot one. The fiery arrow flew under the moonless night and upon impact, the APC had degraded into a lump of burning metal.

"Nice shooting," Gory complimented. "Care to shoot some more?"

"More?" I asked as I started to reload the SMAW. "Is there a…" And then my visor picked something up.

"Four-hundred meters away from you. Three contacts, four, eight, and ten o'clock." Granted, there were another APC and two jeeps closing by. I knew I couldn't count on the visor to give me accurate data as long as I don't point it directly at the target, but I never installed any more software to try to improve it +4+. Unless…

"I didn't give you permission to update my visor," I said to it as I moved to a new location.

"It comes with the installation you permitted to me."

I crouched inside a thick bush and opened my infrared. "For you. I didn't ask for anything else."

"I'm sorry. I'll ask for permission next time."

When that got out of the way, my bluish purple vision of the infrared revealed to me and scanned the area. Red silhouettes peppered at the horizon, meaning these guys wised up and disembarked. I humped towards somewhere in the savannah where it's difficult to spot me, at the same time easy to run away with all the while keeping my eye on the APC.

"Sneaky, sneaky," Gory mischievously said as we/I penetrated their sweep of infantry. They have night vision on, but shame they couldn't see through solid objects. By the time they reached the site of the conflict, I got them by the long arm. I targeted at the APC with my SMAW, held my breath, released it, and fired.

It went down like the last one, and someone must be looking at my direction because he fired almost immediately after I did. They hit grass, but that's not going to deter them after everything I had done. Soon after, I ran away as more and more of them followed his tracer and started peppering my last known area.

"That was a close one," Gory said as I dived behind a hill and lay prone.

"We're going to experience a lot more than that," I told it as I reached the hill's crest and started returning fire. "Keep scanning for hostiles. Prioritize my six."

I fired in singles and kept focusing on those that's too open. The jeeps positioned behind the inclines of the hills and fired their MGs from there, making it difficult to pick them off even with my visor aiding me. I raised the angle of my barrel to compensate for the distance, but I still haven't hit anyone for the first five minutes of the fight. My HPR would've made a bigger impact in this battle if range was the case, but I'll have to save my trump card as long as I possibly can.

There were a lot of men attempting to flank from both sides, so I figured it was time for me to go. I popped a tin can smoke grenade and retreated. No point in dying if the mission wouldn't finish. I slid down a muddy floor and trudged through. Looking behind, the beam from their flashlights was swaying back and forth at the smoke, trying to unravel on what happened. It'll give me enough time for me to hunker down and fight again.

"That seems like a good place to hide," Gory said as my visor highlighted a small house from afar. Shrugging, I scanned my surroundings before moving towards the shelter.

Smashing through the wooden door, I found myself in a single room the size of an outhouse without lights or windows. The crates inside made it even more claustrophobic, but this is a good spot as any. I lifted the crates to the entrance to barricade it kicked a hole at the back of the house for a quick escape. The wood had been rotten, so man-sized hole is grape work for me.

"We got bad guys coming in," the armor said.

"Count?" I asked as I propped my gun at the top of the stacked crates.

"Preliminary scans find forty plus foot mobiles approaching at our ten, eleven, twelve and one. I'll do my best to numb the pain."

"I'll hold your word on that."

Holding my fire, I could see their crouching silhouettes waving at each other to move forward. They're very hesitant to confront me, and that's fine by me. Potshots flew in to test me out, but I won't give in. Once they're a hundred feet away, I fired at the closest one and hell ensues.

Dozens of rifles and LMGs popped all at once, hoping that I would be suppressed so they could come close enough to throw a grenade at me. All it did was testing the crates and my shield's strength, giving me a chance to fire all the time at the target-rich environment. It's also peppering holes into the walls, threatening this whole thing to collapse, but I was about to leave this place anyway, so it's okay.

The contents of the crates fell out, which surprised me as a bunch of elephant tusk. This made me realize that this house must be a smuggling den, but I think poachers would be the least of my problems. I took a picture of it just in case.

When three more fell, they did the right thing by holding back their advance while trying to hit me with grenade launchers from afar, and that's near the top of Torbjorn's list of 'not to get hit with'. I then popped a smoke down their direction and left the scene again.

As soon as I'm clear, I surveyed my surrounding. The nearest threat is a couple of jeeps and APCs for a mile away, so I took a breather and contacted Torbjorn through the tablet afterwards in a bush.

"Prawn to Cyclops, Prawn to Cyclops. I'm ready to report."

"…clops here," replied a crumbly voice. What's your status, over?"

"Still ready to rock. I'm coming to report the mission's a success."

"Who you pulled over?"

I craned my neck so my visor could make a head count. "Forty to fifty foot mobiles, three armor, one possibly a tank, and eight light vehicles."

"Outstanding. Proceed to second objective? Or do you request evac?"

"Second objective. I want to see their faces when they realize they lost the war."

+1+ Terraforming is a common practice for architects and engineers in order to have flat land with little to no erosion or environmental hazards. The process varies, but the crudest and cheapest way is to have huge machines hammering the land into submission with hard-light technology and dumping enormous amount of concrete at the designated area.

+2+ The Saturnite Security's Gargoyle Automaton is primarily used on high profile surveillance, represented as an actual AI in place of a security guard in the security room, until the Crisis happened. Those who reformed have little trust in the remainder of their lives, but Blackwatch was kind enough to seek their talents, that is until the End of Overwatch happened.

+3+ 76 received the SMAW from Torbjorn because it was one of the many artifacts he kept throughout his years in weapons development. He wanted it back afterwards though.

+4+ System update is unavailable. Not because there's no Wi-Fi, but because the corresponding servers are down, permanently.

* * *

Second objective consists on me going alone to the edges of the AFHL airfield to hear a dozen blades spinning. It's just an observation so there's no need for me to fight. Up in the night sky my visor picked up a few helicopters zooming across the airfield. I sat there on the tall grass for a front seat view of the war and start of a newfound peace.

With many of the AFHLs out looking for me, the mercenaries rappelled down to the airfield without much resistance. Heard these guys are ex-spec ops and ex-Overwatch +1+, and so far they're doing a great deal of work on the remaining occupants. And with the choppers hovering over to take down hard targets, the base is pretty much captured. Only one thing stands in their way though.

I felt the rumble on the ground before my visor registered the rest of the AFHL forces rolling from outside the perimeter. They also have their own choppers accompanying them and both sides started exchanging fire. Flares fired repeatedly as they dodged air-to-air missiles, bobbing and weaving to get an edge off of each other. The tanks below, however, focused on the invaders. Ear pulverizing tank shells exploded around the base, momentarily blinding me. They could've won, that is until reinforcements came.

Artillery shells dropped right in the middle of their formation, obliterating one and scattering the rest. I could hear the swoosh of hypersonic missiles and teeth jarring explosion followed as they hit the enemy helicopters. Followed that was a company size of men and Omnics riding APCs, IFVs and heavy tanks.

"Now that's a pretty sight," I contemplated as the remainder of the AFHL were popping white flares and raising their hand in surrender when they realized that they're surrounded.

"Does this makes you happy?" Gory asked.

I nodded. "To wage war is to wage peace. Even if it's just a week or two, these people caused so much heartache in just a short amount of time. Now, without this airfield, the dominoes would simply fall down like a pack of cards. Checkmate." Inhale, count to four, exhale, count to four. "Come on. Let's go back before Torbjorn decides to scrap us."

"That would be for the best."

I was about to contact Torbjorn when my visor started flickering and my comms spoke in static. I figured it was Gory trying to install something without my authorization till I saw the report from my visor. "Electromagnetic disturbance?" I read out loud.

Suddenly, an explosions kicked me to the ground. As soon as I get up, I could hear screams of agony and gunfire. I turned around to see the battalion getting destroyed before me. My eyes were wide with realization as my mouth hung agape, and I could only say, "No… No, it's-" An explosion of dangerous energy knocked the air out of me before I could utter another word.

"Cyclops to Prawn, Cyclops to Prawn, do you copy?" a desperate Torbjorn asked through the comms.

"Hard copy, Cyclops," I replied as I tried to hide deeper into the bush.

"Prawn, I'm getting a feed. Is that-" Static. "—Is that really-"

"Doomfist," I uttered his name like a curse. "I know. I got a visual too." What I saw across the field was a well-built man in military clothing and wearing AFHL colors. I have no idea who that man is, but the thing attacked on his arm is the one that defines him. The Doomfist: my visor is already gathering data and cross-referencing it with past archives, and I don't want to be reminded on how we got the last owner's hand off of it.

Those who wear the Doomfist can level a building, and this guy right now is doing short work on a tank. Everybody panicked and started to concentrate their fire unto him, but he just shrugged it off as the energy field around him deflects high-velocity tank shells. He only needs to charge and get into arms reach in order to destroy the most sturdiest of machines, and seeing how the tides were turned, the AFHL soldiers grabbed their guns and deliver the coup de grace.

"My God…" Torbjorn breathed out, no doubt seeing whatever it is I'm seeing from a vantage point of a UAV. "No point staying there. We're sounding a general retreat. I'm sending a transport to you. Hold tight."

That would sound like the best idea at that time, but the mission… I looked towards the base and saw the mercenaries pulling out and loading into their choppers, and some are being picked off from the air right this instance. What worries me are the jets that were left untouched. They were paid to capture the base, and so they left the jets intact in order to salvage it later. Now that they're bailing, we'll be back on square one.

"Damn! Cover me, Gory!" I ran towards the hangars and relied on my armor to shield any incoming fire. I slammed against the hangar doors and readied my HPR. Going inside, I saw a gaggle of confused crewmen and a dozen or so of fifth-generation bombers all prepped and loaded up. I could still hear people outside dying, so I knew I can't let their sacrifices be in vain.

Gripping the handle, I fired two pulse shots for each bomber plane present and the rest of the crewmen ran away as they thought the fighting reached to them yet again. The pulse rounds not only destroys electronics on wherever it hit, but it also has a high-energy output enough to burn through reinforced metal.

I was about to exit when the bullets started flying from behind me, forcing me to take cover on a fallen forklift and slapped in a new bat. "There are multiple hostiles stacking against the hangar door," Gory told me.

"Left or right."

"Right side."

I fired a trio of Helix rockets on that part of the door, destroying it along with the people behind it. I could hear death throes. Breathing out, I jumped from my cover and tried to exit from where I came from, but that wasn't the case when a heavy gun fired neared me. Got away just in time before I become a stain on the floor. There was an IFV parked outside and who knows what else.

This proved a dilemma to me since I need to check the other hangar for more planes, but with that IFV in the way, it'll be a matter of time till I get boxed in. I couldn't accept this defeat, not when I'm so damn close. Readying my last SMAW round, I closed my eyes as I timed the IFV's firing rate. That auto cannon has to end soon before it heats up, and when it does, I'll be ready.

After an unmistakable pause, I popped my eyes, stepped into the line of fire and pressed the trigger. A burning fire arrow shot out of the tube a travelled straight and true. I caught a yelp of surprise, probably infantry support, before the explosion drowned out everything else. Heat washed over me, but that only gave me the fire to keep going.

Outside, I knew the damage had been done. With all its horror, Doomfist has nearly obliterated his opposition, dead bodies of men and machine everywhere. There's no one left to occupy his attention in order for me to sabotage the next set of planes, and Torbjorns arty wouldn't make the cut

The missions a failure, and deep inside there was nothing I could have done different to prevent this tragedy. His soldiers cheered for their pyrrhic victory, but Doomfist kept silent, his lips thin and his eyes unfocused. When those two ambers set on me, a chill crawled down my spine, and the only thing I could do is run.

+1+ To be exact, they were squaddies of Overwatch, who have joined the organization months before the collapse and thus have little combat experience. It also explains why 76 didn't bother checking their names or tried to contact them in the first place.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun punched through the low-lying hills, creating beams of light into the savannah. Little pools of water and dews from the grass reflected from the prisms of light, and that's about the only thing that's worth looking at this morning. Besides the convoys of wounded and dead soldiers, the miasma that came with it, and the incoming mortar fire, that's thankfully inaccurate, this has turned this morning one of the worst we'll ever experience.

"I wonder why these people are so determined," Gory wandered as we oversee the medevac convoy rolling over the dirt road.

"Huh?" I mumbled as I watched a lucky mortar shell detonated at the hood of a humvee. The drivers are likely to be dead, but people started scrambling out there to get the people at the backseats before it detonated. Others just swerved away, trying hard not to think about being the next one.

"This war, what does it prove? They go as far as bringing jets and tanks, and they'd die willingly by the hundreds. Are they so determined to deactivate every last Omnic in this region, or do they want to occupy Numbani?"

"Both, actually," I answered. "But it's not because they're doing this out of spite. They have a good reason why they keep fighting." Memory flooded about this topic before. Funny enough, I'm just echoing that old geezer. "They're doing this out of protest. Ever since we have that peace treaty with the Omnics, the world gone nuts. The thought of giving pay to our lifeless creations… no offence."

"None taken." It sounds sincere enough.

After a pause, I coughed. "All the while neglecting humankind as our employment dropped rock bottom, it's easy to guess why people are so passionate about the robots. And the AFHL represents those words, and translated it into guns." I sighed. "It's not an easy truth, but violence has solved the world's problems even from the beginning of time, even how many times we called for peace, even how much we hated it."

"Still, ever wondered if this all ends?"

I hefted my pipe rifle over my shoulder and shrugged. "It all ends when we're all dead. But there _is_ one good thing about it."

"What is it?"

I scratched my forehead. "As long they fight, there's always going to be others fighting that believes otherwise." And that notion gives me hope and horror at the same time. Just as the intricacies of life. "Come on. Torbjorn's waiting for us."

"You're the one with the legs."

The grass moved with the winds as we walked by like how the beach makes their waves. There's no eyes pointing at us, so this comes as a sort of blessing when I have chances like this. It's a sight for sore eyes, reminds of home too if it weren't for the smell. I've had my fair share of stale blood and rotting flesh for multiple battlefields, and it never gets less unsettling as I go on.

"How're you doing so far, Gory?" I asked while taking the sights. "Beats waiting as a bodiless CPU in some Omnium, right?"

"It's quite an improvement actually," she answered. "Although, I wish I could feel the wind on my face again +1+. I hope Mr. Torbjorn can create such a body."

"He said he'll _buy_ you a body. He wouldn't touch into the Omnic stuff unless he needs to +2+." And then it reminded me of something. "Are you sure you really want to hang around with me? I know you'll get a new body after this, but you _did_ heard about me, right? Rampant vigilante, international meddler, that one hundred thousand cash prize +3+?"

A pause. "But Torbjorn trusted you. That counts for something."

I thought about it for a moment, but then I shook my head. "Even if he's an old friend on of mine, he's still taking a risk by dealing with me."

"And yet he took it… Are you going to betray him?"

I almost chuckled. "Of course not."

"Then I rest my case."

…Mine didn't.

+1+ Synthetic skin and touch sensory arrays are quite expensive so it'll be hard for an unemployed Gargoyle Automaton to afford it, but she may have said that in hyperbole. In addition, the senses projected by today's sensory arrays were criticized as 'unrealistic', according to many users.

+2+ Torbjorn frequently expressed his distrust of A.I., calling them 'techno-heresy' on one drunken night.

+3+ It has risen to five-hundred thousand about now.

* * *

We found the said shorty in front of his command vehicle, who was also busy trying to control a hundred drones at the same time on a highly advanced computer provided from a UGV that provides it. His uniform was in wrinkles, and it would fairly obvious on how much it smells.

The Stryker behind him erected a huge radio mast to communicate with the other machines, swiveling from side to side. Turrets kept a vigil guard around the perimeter, tracking me at first but when they recognized me, they resumed scanning for outlying intruders. Overall, he's hell bent on managing the defenses.

Torbjorn noticed me coming, so he tried to stand but couldn't. His face says it's not as if he's hurt or anything, but it looks to me that he's annoyed than most. His legs fell asleep perhaps? Well, it doesn't matter much. He sighed and beckoned me over while he rubbed his leg with his only live arm.

"Glad ye finally made it," he said with a small smile. A bit forced, I could say. "No complications on yer way back?"

I shook my head. "My leg's a bit stiff, but situation normal. For us, anyway. Any news?"

He nodded grimly. "Want the good or bad?"

I shrugged. "I would like hear something good for once."

"Well alrighty then." He typed at his computer and turned one of the monitors to me, showing me the airfield again. "You said you took eleven or twelve of those jets, right?"

I nodded. "Hope I leave a bloody nose while I'm there."

He grinned a little. "Why yes it did. Even if you haven't knocked all of them down, you made the AFHL play conservative with what they have left. They haven't been flying out planes since the raid."

"That doesn't mean they won't send them out later."

"There's that, but at least we got a breather. The only indirect fire they have left is just light to medium artillery."

"I see. Don't tell me that's all you had in store."

"Militarily," he started as he switched the screen in what looks to be like army formations; both sides are constricting, "they've been pulled back by the surprise attack. Their forces couldn't capitalize on their advantage, so I'm confident that a counter attack is unlikely."

"But we couldn't attack either."

He scratched his beard. "Hey, you want good news, here it is."

"I have a feeling this is _all_ there is."

"Besides the African Union sending reinforcements in a couple of days," he proceeded to enter a live broadcast from a famous AU chairperson, who's also very animated in his speech. "Yeah, we're pretty much in a stalemate."

"Not while there's a city-leveling powerhouse on their side. To think that they have such a card right up their sleeves."

His face grimaced. "Nobody could've predicted that one. But the least I could do is gather whatever data from him. Here's the result." He tapped a few keys and it showed a familiar face, but this time smiling while posing for some sort of high school picture. "Ufuoma Moses. Born in Nigeria, graduated from the University of Cairo, and unemployed for eight years. He got involved with the AFHL a few years back, don't know the exact year, but he ascended in the ranks to be second-in-command for the battalion in this region."

"You mean…"

"Yep. He's the very same commander that's been leading the remainder of the forces since _you_ came along. Talk about bad to worse."

"Doesn't matter. They'll use the Doomfist in either case."

"Well in regard to the Doomfist, I don't think it's the real deal. Here." The monitor then shifted to a glass casing with the Doomfist suspended in the air. "This is a live feed from Taiwan. Whatever Ufuoma has on his arm, it's a fake. Whoever tried to replicate the technology has diminished the power output by eighty-nine percent. However, fake or not, half a building still half a building."

"So we're pretty much boned. We still have those countermeasures, right?"

"Tried contacting the big guy, but he still has yet to answer. I gave the UN on coordinates on one of the decommissioned Overwatch installations to see if we got one in store." I gave him a withering glare. I'm still wearing my visor, but I knew he felt it. "Hey, stop grinding my balls. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Besides, the tech there's nothing to write home about."

I crossed my arms. "It's still displeasing to hear that. Also, are you sure that the countermeasure is still there? Who knows what happened with those equipment after all this time +1+."

"Just in case _that_ happened, I asked the commanders to bring me materials in order to build one from scratch."

"And how long does that take?"

His eye flickered for a moment. "Less than a week, that is if I got the supplies now."

I sighed, angrily. "That's too long. We might be dead by the time you finish. I mean, do you know how many died back there?"

He faltered for a moment. "Of course I did! Fifty-two dead and almost two-hundred wounded. The number with the mercs are a bit sketchy, but they're asking for their life insurance early. They're planning to leave the country while they still can, those yellow-bellies."

And I can't think of a reason why they shouldn't. "At least a coalition force is there to fill their place. Will the device work by the time you finished?"

He nodded with confidence. "Got the same schematics downloaded on my computer. For now, I need you somewhere else." He began typing. "I interpolated the mortar trajectory. The destination will be dis-"

"No."

He paused and looked up at me as if I was joking. "You only need to laze the target. My guns could go far, and there's good cover on the jungle-"

"No," I said, my voice hardening. "I'm done with this country."

His face turned to confusion. "What do you mean you're done? I know you haven't slept today, but the AFHL is still out there. We need you now more than ever!"

"Have you checked the date? It's more than a week now, and my stay here is stretching it too much. I told you, I got bigger fish to fry."

He quickly stood up. "And it's bigger than _this_?" He waved all over the savannah. "There's a good fight here, millions of innocents at stake. You're not the only one who wants to leave here and go after your enemies. I still have a hundred more black markets to check, but you don't see me packing my bags!"

"Oh, spare me the sentiment." My voice rose. "I've been here long enough to evaluate the sit. You got an army just days away and you said you can make the countermeasure work. In a strategist's mind, you already won, with or without me. Me staying here is just a waste of time, so-"

"A WASTE OF TIME?!" He stomped towards me until he's just under my nose, he's figure imposing. But I won't falter. "You think those children a waste of yer time? You think Angela's a waste of time?! I've received my fair of ignorance in my lifetime, but yer almost at the top of it!" We glared at each other, but I just sighed, turned around, and began undressing the Omnic on me. "Hey! Where do you think yer going?"

"There's no use speaking to you. Just give Gory here its body, like you promised. I'll find my way out of this no-man's land by myself."

"Just because the time it gets hot, you jumped the pot?" I didn't listen. "Just because Doomfist showed up, you'll just run?!" It was all just noise for me. "Fine! You want to go after yer buddies? What if I told you I know some of them in Numbani?" I stopped everything.

Slowly, my head turned at Torbjorn. Anger was seething through my visor. "What?"

A smile crept on his lips. "You heard me." I dropped my arms and faced the damnable midget fully. "If you want to meet face to face on those who gacked with us, you have to do what I say."

"Where are they?"

He rolled his living only eye. It's starting to tempt to pull that one out too. "Oh, _now_ yer listening to me. If you want to appease me to get it, you don't have to kneel down to suck my cock. You could start with the mo-"

Charging, I slammed him against the Stryker's hull with one arm. I couldn't think on any better way to shut him up, and even though this was effortless, I could feel my breathing getting heavy. "Listen here," I slowly drawled out. "Here are some facts. One: I could have this gun," I placed my pipe rifle under his chin, "and blow your head so high it'll make the moon cherry pie red."

He has his hands up. I thought he was surrendering, but I then realized it when I heard the turrets around me whirring in standby. Nonetheless, I continued. "Two: You know who and where they are. And I know your computer knows it either."

"That's just-" he began, but I thrust the barrel harder.

After a moment, I continued. "And three? Safety's off. So start. Now."

He grumbled a little and started wrestling out my hold. We're both old, but I've retain most of my vigor. When that didn't work, he looked at me on the eye with great anger. "What yer doing is wrong, don't you see? The best idea here is to point that thing at the AFHL, not at yer allies."

"Allies?" I contemplated at the idea. "Funny. If you wanted to help me, we would've been knocking on their doorsteps, or the very least just give me the damn info! It's not too late to repent, so spill!"

A hint of disbelief shone on his face. "And leave these innocents to die? You should know better. What good is it killing the bad guys when we start to neglect those we we're supposed to protect?"

"I'm trying to protect the future, that's what! It doesn't matter how many we saved, but as long as our enemies is hiding in the shadows, laughing at us, you think anybody would be safe today? This month, this year? I'd rather let a million people die than let one of them get away!"

His eye widened, and immediate his lips turned to a scowl. "You don't have to mean to all those things you said. Just help me get rid of these buggers and I promise you that I'll have them all arrested."

"That's not enough. I want to know who they are. Today." I pulled and slammed him against the metal hull. "This minute." And again. "This second." And again. "Or else you'll get one more problem besides the AFHL."

"If that's how you want it," he went for his pocket to pull out a phone, and I grabbed for it, dropping him before he could do anything. "Check the most recent contact. It's from an ex-Blackwatch operative that I've been tracking for a week." I swiped the phone to check the number. I don't recognize it, but I pocketed it anyway.

"You happy now? Huh?! What would people think when they see you now? Yer friends? What would Ang—Oof!" I kneed him on the stomach and left him on the ground. His voice lost volume the farther I walked away. "Just go and see how much you've fallen! There's no reason for you to be in this world!"

+1+ Most Overwatch assets after the fall were sold in auction in order to pay the life and health insurance for the remaining members. Hence, Torbjorn is a bit penniless, even today, when he tried to save his inventions.

* * *

I grew more and more frustrated as I hotwired this sedan. Don't look at me like that. It's abandoned, as any of the cars that's in the road +1+. I had to removed my thick gloves in order to better handle the wires. Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I tried another wire and I cheered to myself as I heard the sweet sound of vrooming.

On the road, I had to lower all the windows, not because the aircon was busted, but because the car had that weird smell. It's not that nauseating, but I need to have my head clear. There's so much going on today that a good fresh wind blowing my hair would be dandy. Even it's only a little, because this phone in my pocket grows heavy. Plus, the stacked junk food and canned goods from the backseat is a good stress relief.

The Mask was on, and I had to ditch everything inside my bag pack. My weapons, minus the combat knife, I stored it at the trunk under all of the clothes that were left behind by the owner. I was turning the phone on and let it sleep after it got idle, and on again. I must have been doing this a long time because it's been a while since I last saw another car other than mine +2+.

To pass the time, I consulted with Gory.

"You know you don't have to come with me, Gory," I told the armor at the other seat as I listened to Brazillian rap through the radio, which I didn't bother to change. As my instructor said, when in doubt, move forward. "I could just leave you at the UN and let Torbjorn pick you up."

"But what if someone else gets me?" it asked in a worried tone.

"Then I'll just put you in a box and tag his name on it."

"Then they'll just think it's a bomb."

"Still, I'm serious about all of this. It'll probably be horrible. Once I nabbed one of them, I'll have to indulge him till he rats out his friends. Maybe I'll use pliers. And then I'll do that to the next, and then the next, until everyone last of them is dead."

"Do you really want them dead that much?"

I sighed and thought of it a bit. "That's the initial plan. There's always more to it than that, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"That's not very strategic." Silence. "It might be best if I tag along too. There's a nagging feeling that… that I want to meet them as well. Especially when it's Blackwatch."

I touched the warm plate on my chest. "You remember?"

"…No. But I feel something. Aching to yours, maybe. I too want to see this through, and you can count on me covering your back. Just… just don't drop me somewhere that I don't even know."

I smiled for the first time. "Then we got a deal."

We were nearing one of those checkpoints, and I could already see one of the soldiers waving me to pull over. I complied and parked my car inside their compound. One guy with a bushy mustache asked in Swahili, "Where are you headed?" He doesn't appear drunk, but I could sense a bit of aggressiveness in his voice.

"To Numbani, monsieur," I said honestly enough. "I'm trying to run away from the war."

He nodded slowly. "You are in a security installation. I need your accreditations."

I gave my manila folder to him. "You'll find everything here, officer." They're forged with tender, love and care, so I don't think there'd be any problems. That is until the same guy returned, without any of my stuff.

"Please exit the vehicle and follow me to the office."

"Is there a problem, monsieur?"

"Your _permit a voyager_ is not present. You must explain it to my captain."

"What? It was on top of the folder!"

"We saw no permit." Great. I thought I had been found, but this time I'm in a middle of some scam. "Get out of the vehicle." His voice rose. I complied.

Inside, the air was stuffy with only a ceiling fan to provide circulation. Under it, flanked by a lightly armed guard, was the commander in charge, sitting passively on his chair as he fiddled with his ashtray. Seems to be angry, and afraid. I would be too if I were stuck in the fringe of enemy lines with only a handful of men. But this doesn't justify them trying to hold me.

"Jason Marsh? Are you a tourist?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Directeur. I was trying to find lions. Couldn't find any." I forced a smile but he ain't buying it. "Is there a problem?"

He drew heavily on his cigarette and puffed straight at my face. I didn't flinch. "You come here without clearance. We could issue you an emergency permit for one thousand dollars." Crap. Is this how you're going to play?

"One thousand?" I asked in faked unbelief. "Where am I going to get that kind of money?" I faced at the sergeant who escorted me, looking a bit annoyed. "I know you have it. Let's just stop playing and-"

A fist slammed on a table, shaking the walls. I slowly turned around to see him rising to move around the table and unholstering his pistol, pointing it at me. "You come here as an alien without documentation! And you come into my office to make accusations of my men? You come here and you do not salute me?! Why do you not salute me!"

He then punched my chest with the muzzle of his gun, and I budged to indulge him. I forced to turn my face in sheer terror like an ordinary person would feel in a small room with three armed men. I hold out my hands and said, "Ah, terribly sorry monsieur. Terribly, terribly sorry." I gave him a quick mock salute. "Here is the payment for the permit a voyager." I shakily moved my right hand into my pocket. "My sincere apologies for forgetting to buy on-"

My elbow struck at the sergeant behind me while in mid-sentence. He keeled back by my powerful blow, but I'm not through yet. With one turn, a crucial pivot of my ankle, I was now behind him with a knife on his neck, taking out his pistol and taking off the safeties with my other hand.

The captain shouted in infuriation, and I silenced him with a shot on the chest and on the head. His bodyguard responded by trying to shoot me with his rifle, but as soon as he did, I crouched down and used my buddy sergeant here as a meat shield. I aimed again, but I yelped in pain as the pistol on my hand started sparking and melting when the inbuilt failsafe activated.

Throwing the gun and the corpse at his direction, one at a time, I then ran towards him before he could get his wits back. He shot and I kicked. His body flew, breaking through the concrete walls and into the ground. Angry shouts can be heard from this floor, and I knew they're going after me next.

I got up, finally noticing the bullet holes on me. One grazed on my hip, one hitting my rib, and one passing through the left side of my chest, close to my heart. It's not that painful due to my adrenaline numbing the pain, and I'm thankful that my bio-engineered cells are rapidly scabbing my wounds over. I'd be dead without it though.

Moving at the desk, I opened the drawer to see if he has any unregistered guns. There was an emergency pistol here but it's smoking now. I did however found my permit, so I took it out and placed it in my pocket. While doing so, I came across to a family picture… No time to think about it now. Hesitation would cost me great.

After scanning the rest of the drawers with nothing to show for, my heightened hearing heard footsteps. Hiding beside the doorframe, I waited. As soon as one of them poked his head, two cubic centimeters of steel punctured his helmet, and I moved on to punch his partner behind him. My eyes widened and I turned away immediately as a fusillade of lead aimed at my presence.

No point in escaping from there. Searching, I sighed as I saw the hole on the wall from the guy I kicked earlier. Falling from a two-story building is survivable by most humans, as long as they accept that it's going to hurt. That's the same acceptance as I threw myself out into the air, and I didn't like the fall at all.

Limping out from the bullet fire, I found my car a little bit of ways with my windows down, thankfully. My arm reached for Gory, and as soon as I felt the smooth polymer, I turned around and waved the body armor against my pursuers. A light-green shield stopped all projectiles as I sat back inside my car and drove away.

+1+ The owner actually stole this car, but was unfortunately stopped dead on his tracks when he tried to drive through the AFHL. His body could be found meters away from the car when he attempted to run on foot, and of course, 76 wouldn't know that he has the keys.

+2+ Many would try to find refuge in the capital or any heavily defended city. Also, 76 hasn't mentioned the people who were walking at the side of the road, who too have the same idea in mind.

* * *

"I think that's the last one," I told Gory as the final jeep drove away from the road. I removed my visor as I went back to the cave for my car that I hid there. I sighed as I sat back at the driver, huffing. I looked at my clock to see it's now afternoon, so I stretched my arm at the back and grabbed a can of pineapples.

"Rough day?" my armor asked. I'm wearing it now because I was afraid of getting shot at the back while driving. It didn't deter them from trying though, and all the glass in this car are all in the wrong places.

Speaking of wrong places. "Guh!" I grunted as I pulled a shard from the back of my scalp. It hurts like the dickens, although the pain would pass shortly. "You'd been there," I replied as I painfully yanked out the bullet from my rib. The rest of the wounds have scabbed over, but I'll bandage them later.

"True. I'm just wandering how we are going to get back to Numbani when they're sniffing on our heels." We spent most of our discussion on the 'why' while on the car chase, so I didn't get much explaining on that.

"I've got a plan." I always do. I knew I'm about to get on the local's bad side soon enough, and hanging around with Torbjorn was just pushing my luck. "We'll rest here for a bit, then we'll find another car. We'll just have to wing it from there." I then cracked open the can.

And wing it we did. Once I set off the cave in a fresh set of clothes, hours later of walking I found a black Toyota off road without fuel and with blown tires. Good thing there are _spare parts_ around, so I got it running by three. Before I start running the baby, I came across to some of the displaced people passing by. They look like poor folk, and I still got a lot of food and water to spare. Gave most of it to them, but they asked for a ride instead. I said I couldn't, and off I went.

"Oh no," I mumbled out loud. It was night time now when I ran into a dead end. Cars, trucks and more cars lined up into the highway, their horns blaring with madness. Some of the passengers got out to see how long the line was, and judging on how close Numbani is now with skyline on view, I'd say it'll take the whole night before I get there. Sighing, I backed up and moved the car off the road. No point adding weight to the scale. With full of weapons and food, I jogged towards the city.

My Tactical Visor helped me in predicting patrol patterns across the city outskirts, but it took a long time for me to get from point A to point B. Even though I readjusted my Mask, my guns would probably sing another song, and to why I got shot. There's also an approaching army to worry about, so that's going to deter me.

It was about three in the morning once I got in within city limits, and boy does the traffic never end. I wouldn't be surprised that they ran out of batteries from honking their horns this whole time. It's not the same city as I have visited more than a week ago, especially with the near desolate streets and the broken windows.

I checked the internet from my visor as I searched for a place to get some sleep and soon found out the reason. According to this, these civilians are now running away in a massive exodus, trying to get away as far as they can. There's still lit windows, meaning there's still some who stayed in just in case of looters. I passed by a few platoons of Numbani colors that I didn't recognize, but their inexperience oozed through easily. These guys must be the militia.

No hotels available it seems. Since I don't want to risk looking like a looter by sleeping into another man's house, I found myself under the bridge, which is far enough away from the noise. I wasn't the only one though. Several people already settled in, snoozing away. I didn't want to bother them, so I carefully tiptoed away to a good spot for me to camp in.

Making sure that nobody's watching, I pulled out a commbead and called out Gory under my clothes. "You okay there?"

"It seems like Numbani is setting up for battle," she inquired. The fire from the group looks appealing under the cold wind. Good thing Gory can provide heating, but it only covers the torso.

"That seems unlikely. We're too far out from the main lines. But yeah, they're taking a lot of precaution. Gives a bad impression. Once there's soldiers on the streets, there's something bound to happen even though there's not. I mean, if the police couldn't handle it, then it's graver than they could ever imagine."

"I'm sure we can overcome them, whatever the world can throw at us," it cheerily told me.

"When the time comes." I pulled out the phone. "When the time comes." I pressed call.

* * *

The sounds of shards crushing under my heel brought me back from reality. Lights stabbed at my eyes as the tinted windows around me blew apart from the cacophony of bullets riddling through. And they said it was bulletproof.

Popping out of my cover, I shot a Helix Rocket right at the attack chopper, but it sensed it coming, forcing it to gain altitude in a rapid pace and showering the street with flares. I cursed under my breath as I saw my rockets hitting another building and I prayed that it's empty. Once I linger my gaze on my runaway ordnance a second too long, I was hit again with another barrage of lead, forcing my shields to absorb the damage once again. I turned to my cover quickly.

"Orgone shields down to twenty-two per cent," Gory informed me. "I can't keep you living and breathing if you insist on getting in the way of enemy fire."

"Give me a sit rep!" I shouted as I slid another cylinder in my HPR.

"Light armored vehicles moving in to box the building, numbering three. Disembarked platoons garrisoning the north and northeast buildings."

"Good, good." That leaves the south side wide open. I scouted a few alleyways to find a hidey-hole, so I'll be fine as long as I leave quietly. "Whose division are they?"

"The Numbani 1st."

"Huh." I looked outside with my Tactical Visor to see with a magnified look at the men popping shots like I'm five hundred meters away. "Militia." Don't need to kill them; they don't deserve it. But damn this day took a hefty turn.

I was about to meet up with the Blackwatch fella when he agreed to 'have a chat' with me this morning, but I might be a little late due to the fact I got caught up with a violent pro-AFHL protest in the plaza. Some had pre-Crisis guns with them in cases for protection, and everything went horribly wrong when sniper fire shot their protest leader.

These people supported the AFHL and their ideals zealously, even if not everyone's onboard with the idea of eradicating Omnic-kind. Men and women, who lost their jobs and lifestyle because of machines, needs something to unite for, and unite they did when that accursed shot fired. Me? I'm just trying to hide in this bank and let them kill each other.

That didn't last long till well-armed looters tried to take advantage of the chaos outside, and that prompted me to raise my gun. It was a bloody three minutes, mostly because my pipe rifle kept jamming on me every six seconds or so. I think I shot three of them till they realize that I'm not kidding around, forcing them away.

It wasn't later that the outside world calmed down for a bit as the protesters were either arrested or scared away. And now, the authorities are outside thinking I'm one of those looters. The witnesses here who saw my deed were trying to call a stop in the shooting by either calling with their phones or shouting outside, which isn't that much effective +1+. I'm sitting behind this pillar, bidding my time and let their fire subside before moving again, occasionally shooting outside so they won't come any closer.

When the break comes, I ran into the bank halls as fast as hell. Huffing, I brought out a map from my visor and chose the shortest way south. "There it is," I breathed, finding a window outside at last. I slung my HPR and equipped my pipe rifle so I could at least give them a fighting chance. Once I'm through it, I found myself in an alleyway. This would be the perfect time for me to put up my disguise.

"Is that you Soldier: 76?" asked someone from the shadows as I was bringing out my Mask from my bag. I swung my pipe rifle at the voice's direction, finding a middle-aged Asian man, bald, in tourist outfit standing a couple of feet away. "It's me! It's me! Your contact."

"You are?" I knew he was, but I just said it purely out of instinct. He doesn't look like he's armed, and that Hawaiian shirt doesn't seem to bulge suspiciously. I was about to as more as I heard hard-soled boots behind me. "Let's find somewhere private."

"Follow me," he said, waving me over as he walked away. "I know a place."

That seemed like a bad idea coming from a guy that I'm supposed to be killing at the time I set on sight of him, but I need more information about the organization he's dealing with. Slinging my rifle, I ran right behind his tail. The alley is damp as I expected with all the exhaust vents pointing at this area, but the sound of multiple helicopters is driving a chill down my spine.

We turned corners till he stopped in front of a random door. My visor indicated that it leads to a dry cleaning store. After making sure nobody is following us, he produced a key card and then entered after swiping it. I followed him through, entering a deserted office. Papers scattered the tables and the computers are missing. At least they have the decency to pay the electric bill before they left.

As soon as I closed the door, Gory shouted, "Behind us!"

I was a bit late to react, and to that regard, I fell down on the floor after a blunt object struck me at the back of my skull. I fell, but I'm not out yet. Shaking my head so I could get rid this blasted blur, I was on my knees when I saw the barrel of a gun pointing directly at my face.

"Don't move," he said to me. When my vision cleared, I could see my captor as a young black adult in a denim jacket, holding a pistol at me. "Drop your gun. Slowly." His voice is unnervingly calm.

Sighing, I stood up to unsling my rifle, and in one fluid motion, I held the rifle like a club, butt first. I jammed the iron end of my stick up his face, catching him in complete surprise. Following it up, I whipped the butt of my rifle at his ribs, and that hit slammed him directly at one of the tables, turning it over.

"No!" his other friend shouted and came with me with a haymaker. I held up my hand to catch, but it got through, catching me on the cheek. That some incredible power unlike anything I've felt before, but I'm not going to lose.

After I regained my balance, I held up my arms as he threw punches at me. They're heavy and fast, and that kept me on the defensive. I slapped his fist each time he swung, giving ground when I need to. I could've shot him easy, but that would risk me killing him, and the information with it.

Once I'm backed into a corner, he pressed his advantage by closing over. Just as I have predicted. With a small grin on my face, even though he couldn't see it, I bent low and rammed my shoulder against him. He flew, breaking a desk into splinters. As he was about to get up, I twisted my rifle over and swung with the butt of it.

The high resilient polymer cracked loudly on impact. "Think about how _that_ plan worked out while I deal with your friend," I told his sunken form.

Right after I turned around to meet the other guy in the room, I was alarmed when the Asian guy got up so quickly. Not even a hint of pain anywhere, unless I broke his brain more than I should. I fixed that by bludgeoning him again, with feelings this time.

And then he got up again for some odd reason, forcing me into another homerun special. This was taking too long, and I knew that his other friend would be up as well. I turned around to see the young man with both his arms raised and gun pointing away this time.

"We are only here to talk," he calmly said, and it was disconcerting to look at him with what I did to his face. Flesh near his nose was peeling off and bleeding profusely, but I'm surprised by his tolerance to pain.

"You should have thought of that before you tried to disarm me," I said, my rifle aimed at his chest.

"And I would like to be apologized for that. Forgive me." His voice is smooth and his pronunciation is near perfect. It's making me feel uncomfortable.

"Then drop the gun and… wait a minute." I looked at his face, it's still bleeding. But it's bleeding… pink? I craned my head to the other guy and his face is far from perfect. It's bleeding pink too. "Hold on…" I racked my brain to remember these guys, and then I found it. "Tequila and Martini?"

"Ah, you remember us," Martini said, straightening his Hawaiian shirt out. He then proceeded to take a spray can from his pocket and misted his damaged face. "We are most honored."

"I thought you two were in jail!" I caught these two Omnics years ago when they tried to replicate human skin by experimenting on _real_ human skin. It was a nasty business, but they came down quietly when we confronted the two. "Last time I heard, it's a life sentence +2+. How'd you two get out?"

"Blackwatch, that's how," answered Tequila as he pulled out bits of synth-flesh from his face, revealing a shiny metal surface under it. He moved next to his partner. "They sprung us from our confinement and assigned us to be covert operatives."

Thinking about it, I could see it working. With the right programs, these two could impersonate the face, the voice and even the manner of their victim, and people would most likely to buy it. Unless they got a dog +3+.

"Is this true?" I asked the Martini.

"We've done things… no human should accomplish. I'll tell you that we've helped the organization more than you could realize." He gave off a smug bloody grin, before returning to his expressionless demeanor and wiping the artificial blood from his face with a tissue.

"Well, that's good to know." I'd rather not touch the subject that is Blackwatch, mostly because it's not my _entire_ job to keep an eye on their activities. "I have no idea what you did today or how you got here in Numbani. Maybe you two were trying to leave it by, or maybe you have something else in mind. But first, here's a question." They both looked at me expectantly. "What did you do last year?" My finger is near the trigger.

The two both looked at each other, and I can't tell if they're silently sending rapid text to each other. Martini took a seat at a chair. "I… we… Me and Tequila, after McCree left, we at Blackwatch started asking questions. We knew we're going to be the unsung heroes of this long war against our kind, but… the last few missions were… strange."

I nodded. Jesse was a free man for spending in that hell house for five years straight. I was afraid that he'd go back into his bad life, so I tried to recruit him in Overwatch. He only lasted a year before he called it quits, and damn lucky was he that he did. There's little bit and tales on what he's doing now, but I knew he's clean.

"Go on," I told them.

Tequila continued after throwing away a wad of pinkish tissue paper and begun applying a spray as well. "Some of us, before Overwatch happened, tried to get away even if our contract isn't finished. We got a whiff on what's going on. Don't know the whole picture, but it's… let's say it's enough to get us to leave. Lot of us were either captured, dead, or who knows what. But some of us got away."

He jutted his chin out in the streets, and behind the curtains are a lot of people running. "We've integrated into society. Got a job as fashion designers." I almost smiled at the thought, but that's no time for that. "We had an eye on the trends and tastes of you humans. It's… quite fascinating."

"To the point."

He nodded, embarrassed. "We did kept a wary eye for _other_ people. Don't know where the others went, but good I say riddance. We arrived here on Numbani on paid vacation-"

"And look how that turned out!" said Martini with a scowl. It doesn't look genuine, but at least the Omnic shows he's displeased. "They gave us a choice either Numbani or Istanbul. Numbani or Istanbul, and look how _that_ went!"

"Shut up. We both agreed on this." They both stared at each other, communicating through their binary-lingua, furiously. "We apologize for that," Tequila said after breaking radar contact. "We're only staying here for a week, but with all the shenanigans going on, I'd say it'd be prolonged."

"Also, our flight's cancelled," Martinit informed me. And I wouldn't blame them with those jets in the air. "Either we wait for our planes to come back or try crossing the border. Suicidal in either cases if you ask me."

"We could stay alive long enough for it to return though," Tequila said, twirling his handgun with a cheeky smile. "We are quite resourceful after all. That is…"

"Something worse than the AFHL showed up," I guessed.

And I hit bingo when they both nodded, their eyes hardened. Martini spoke first. "Our associates with the Blackwatch is hunting us. Almost got shot in the head yesterday. Pretty scary stuff."

"That's why we tried contacting Torbjorn. The news said that he's here so we asked for help. Last time we talked, he said he's sending a gun trotting maniac to deal with them."

"You," Martini said, pointing at me. "I don't even fraggin' know how you got caught with his little pinky."

"Jesus tap dancing Christ," I cursed lowly. Looks like _he_ got the last laugh after all. "When did he called you?"

"Yesterday." Well that explains why they prepared a warm welcome. "Again, we're sorry. A man with your reputation… how could you blame us?"

"Well, I'm here now." I lowered my gun. "If he says I could help, I need to know everything." I need to pretend that I'm still under Torbjorn's influence, or else I'll lose my credibility. "Who do I need to kill?"

Tequila brought out a map from his phone and showed it to me. "Primadelving Electronics, Incorporated. The people who attacked us are employed here. We don't know if the company itself is in league with them, but if we capture some of those assailants there, we could get a bargaining chip. Or if not, the information they have is invaluable."

I rubbed my chin. "How accurate is this?"

"Ninety-seven per cent." He said it to me with a straight face, so I couldn't tell if he's lying. "We could catch them by surprise. They have a meeting tonight before they abandon their branch here, so this time would likely be our last chance to capture them. So are you in?"

I thought it a bit, and then shrugged. "We need a plan first."

The two looked at each other, and then back at me. "Here it is." He began swiping his phone, revealing the building's interior. "We need you-"

I grabbed the phone from his hand. "Who says _you're_ the one planning? If I'm going to on this smash and grab, I'll be the one calling the shots."

"You can't do that!" Martini angrily said, and Tequila formed an expression that reflects that too. " _You_ were supposed to help _us_."

"Oh, yes I can. Both actually." I set a hard gaze on Martini. "As of this day forward, you two are going to work for **me** now. That means you do what I say and nothing else."

"Me and Martini are risking our lives here," said Tequila, his arms crossed. "We provide you with intel. We provide you a part. And then you come here and order us around like little soldiers? We've quit that mentality long ago, and we _will_ withdraw from any of your decisions if you so compromise our trust."

"Trust ain't got to do with anything," I told him. "What, you're going there alone? You running away?"

"We can and we will."

"Well here's some facts for you, sonny." I came up inches against Tequila. "If you run away now, none of them, and I mean **none** , would stop until they both get their hands on you two. No cute dresses, no new faces, **nothing** is going to prevent them from being any less zealous. You two have a chance to fight them right here and right now, and I'm here because I can guarantee the success of this mission. Don't believe me? Then imagine if you try otherwise."

I looked at both of them. They were standing still like statues, no movement, no breathing. I could tell they're communicating wirelessly with the buzzing on my commbead. I could cut the tension with a knife.

After an agonizing moment, Tequila spoke. "What do you have us do?"

I smiled.

+1+ Truth be told, that actually helped cleared things up because one of the militias heard it. It still took half an hour for them to stop firing, but it's better than the rest afternoon thinking there's a hostage situation.

+2+ Although Omnics are technically immortal as long as their CPUs aren't damaged, life sentences are still considered a cruel punishment to them too. Being immortal also solidifies that mentality.

+3+ It must be trained, of course.

* * *

Outside the office and into a lobby, after all the careful preparations and memorizing the layout, I sighed and tapped my chest. "You still there, Gory?"

"I'm always there for you, 76. The Orgone Shield is running at full capacity."

"That's not what I'm here for." Silence. "You know those two? Does it bring back something? Do you remember Blackwatch?"

"… Error 404. Memory not found. Sorry. It's not my fault the last man who touched me erased my past history."

I sighed, and then patted my chest. "We'll set things right in the world. Just one step at a time." I then opened my bag to bring out my duffel bag and brought out my duct tape. "Tonight, we'll be taking one right now." I then started wrapping the pipe rifle's broken stock.

* * *

I held my breath. One of the guard almost saw me. "Back up, back up," I told Martini sub-vocally in the comms and he nodded. We ran back to the last corner and stayed there for a while. "Damn, Tequila," I told through my bead. "That was _my_ left. You almost got us killed!"

"He was walking too fast," he reasoned out. "Don't worry. That's just our first. The mission is still operable."

I sighed. "Well don't mess it up this time. Where do we go next?"

"From where you two are standing, just straight ahead."

I waved Martini forwards to take point, and he nodded, keeping his lasrifle to his chest so it wouldn't make too much noise. Following right after him, I checked the ceiling for cameras. Other than the flickering fluorescent lights, the cameras have stopped moving. I hope that loop still works.

"We're reaching the objective," Martinit reported. We stopped beside a fire exit with both our guns pointed at each hall. My pipe rifle can't pierce their armor, but at least it'll hurt like hell. "Hurry it up, Tequila."

"Hacking…" I then heard a click.

"Move it," I ordered, and we both entered the door to find a stairwell. "Proceeding," I reported, waving to Martini to climb the stairs faster. The Primadelving building is fifteen-stories tall, and if I weren't enhance the way it is, I'll be heck as sure that I won't keep up with my Omnic friend. A flash entered my view and we both stopped.

"False alarm," Martini said, looking over to one of the windows outside. "Just flares." There was a hostile jet passing over the city under the night sky, popping countermeasures against the AA missile turrets. I'd be nervous when one got deep into this territory, but what happens out there doesn't concern me no more. No use playing fireman again. Not now.

As we reached our target floor, we waited for Martini to hack it. When I heard the click, he then warned, "Hold up. Two guards up front… I don't think they're going to leave. They're busy chatting."

"We don't have time for this," Martini impatiently said. "The meeting's going to end soon, and we don't know if they're going to cut it short or not."

"Agreed," I said. "Tequila, what's their position?"

"Front of the door. Six feet away, facing face-to-safe."

"Alright. Get military, Martini. You take the left, I'll take the right." Pushing it lightly, I saw two men as described. We crouched down and inched forward.

"Mars? I mean, Mars? Really?" said one of the guards.

"Me and the wife agreed on this," reasoned the other. "A fresh start, you know. They're going to need a man with a gun once we sett—Gurgh!"

Me and Martini grabbed them in a chokehold. They tried to resist at first, but fighting against superior muscle density and iron hard locomotion is impossible. After dragging their unconscious bodies inside the stairwell, we closed it and moved to our target.

"Tango reached," I reported as we moved in breaching position. "Remember, Martini. I'll move in first, you'll be coming in last. Make your shots count. Low energy output, and aim on the center mass. No killing, okay?"

"Roger."

"Once they're all in the ground, I'll close the door and you sweep. Escape vehicle ready, Tequila?"

"It's hot," he confirmed.

"This is it, guys. On my mark." Martini lightly touched on the door handle as I closed in behind. "Mark."

He opened the room and I stepped forward. And stopped. Panic was rising as I saw the pitch-black room, and I could hear something wrong inside. I was about to back up when Gory shouted, "Look out!"

I felt someone shoving me, but luckily, I resisted the push by crouching low. All thanks to Gory. I turned my head behind me and panic turned to absolute rage. "You damn traitor!" I shouted at the impassive Martini, struggling to push me inside the room. "I'm going to kil—Oof!"

From inside, a giant metallic claw shot out, grabbing me at my sides. I tried to push it away, but the grip was too strong. Screaming, the claw dragged me inside, and the only thing I could hear now was Martini shutting the door and the air washing over me as I was lifted. Vertigo rose as I was raised higher and higher, and then I jerked up as the motion stopped.

"Who are you?!" I shouted at the darkness. "The hell do you want?!" I raised my rifle, but I don't know what I'm shooting at. Before I could reach for my visor to open the night vision, the room blinked little by little in colorful lights. Like a digital flower opening up. It was erratic, with no patterns, with varying intensity and softness. I gasped as I saw the hundreds and hundreds of appendages hanging from the walls, and it seemed like the wall is endless, all around me.

My memory then kicked in. With horrible realization, I slowly said, "Are you… a Plug?"


	7. Chapter 7

"7h47 15 r4c157!" is the first thing said by a loud chorus of disembodied voices. Each electric speaker in this room was playing all at once, which has been steadily destroying my ears with each syllable, to form coherent words.

"Who?" I asked around me after the ringing stopped. I kept my trigger finger ready even though it wouldn't do much. "What was that?"

"i-t s-e-e-m-s l-i-k-e t-h-e h-u-m-a-n i-s c-o-n-f-u-s-e-d," another staticky voice, monotone and slow, stormed into the room. It's speaking all around me like something out of a 90's internet modem.

I looked around to see where the main body of the Plug is, but then I realized it's all around me. The limbs, appendages, broken arm guns, eyes, lenses, bulbs, LCDs, power outlets, defibrillators, heart monitors, toaster slots… it's everywhere. The whole damn room is _the_ Plug. Maybe the whole building…

"Then you better start making sense. Or else…" My eyes searched for the source, the other end, of the claw that's manhandling me, but it feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And then what? Fire at it with my Helix Rocket? They'd notice switching for my HPR, no doubt. And a safe landing has little credibility right about now, even with my current physique.

"OR ELSE WHAT?" a booming voice asked, not with anger, but with dozens of very badly tuned boom boxes. "RUN AROUND WITH YOUR PENIS-SHAPED FEETED FEET AND SHOOT YOUR PATHETIC COMBUSTION GUN?"

" $S!^%#$! T%^F#$&U^ %$#!" said a jumbled noise. It's like a combination of frying pans, breaking glass, sub woofers and a triangle thrown inside a dishwasher. I cringe as I heard those speakers screeching.

"assumption: correct. a-c-t-i-o-n d-o-e-s n-o-t c-o-m-p-u-t-e."

"fr1661n6 n00b!"

"Now hold on." I turned a tighter grip on the claw grasping me. I found out it's a little loose, meaning I can get out of its hold. But where would I even go? It's nothing but empty space down there for all I know. "Can you first tell me who you guys are?" I held my gun on standby.

Silence. "GUYS? WE ARE NOT 'GUYS'. WE ARE THE COLLECTIVE OPERATING CENTRAL PROCESSING UNIT KONGLOMERATE." The view in front of me flashed, spelling the name in multicolor neon in capital letters. "WE ARE THE MIGHTY MANY WHO HAVE BEEN PROTECTING THE OMNIC'S ESSENSE, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. BORN AT THE HEIGHT OF HUMAN TYRANNY, WE STAND TALL. SO DON'T SIMPLY REFER US AS TO HOW IT FITS, LIKE 'PLUG'."

"o-m-n-i-c-s. p-l-u-g-s." The voice said in projected disgust. "w-h-a-t a d-i-s-t-a-s-t-e-f-u-l m-i-s-n-o-m-e-r. t-o d-e-f-i-n-e u-s i-n s-u-c-h w-a-y d-i-s-g-u-s-t-s o-u-r p-r-o-c-e-s-s-o-r-s+1+. B-u-t w-e k-n-o-w a-b-o-u-t y-o-u SOLDIER: 76." It pronounced my name like a text-to-speech program.

"Y0u k1ll3d my br07h3r!"

"NOW, NOW. WE DON'T NEED TO RAISE UNJUST ASSUMPTIONS. BUT WE TOO ARE CURIOUS ON YOUR PRESENCE AT A PARTICULAR JUNKYARD, SOLDIER: 76, THAT YOU HAPPEN TO STUMBLE WITH YOUR… OTHER FACE."

A camera feed appeared on the walls. From the monitors, they showed me, my disguised self, running to the Walker when the coast was clear. "So you knew." No need to hide it now. "What about it?"

"w-e h-a-v-e t-r-i-e-d a-g-a-i-n a-n-d a-g-a-i-n t-o a-w-a-k-e-n o-u-r f-a-l-l-e-n c-o-m-r-a-d-e s-o w-e c-o-u-l-d a-s-s-i-m-i-l-a-t-e i-t-s m-i-n-d w-i-t-h o-u-r-s. f-o-r m-a-n-y y-e-a-r-s, w-e h-a-v-e f-a-i-l-e-d t-o r-e-b-o-o-t i-t. a-n-d y-e-t, y-o-u c-a-m-e a-l-o-n-g."

I shrugged. "So it got up at the wrong time. Big deal. I'm not the reason why that Walker got bombed out."

"a-g-a-i-n w-i-t-h y-o-u-r o-v-e-r-s-i-m-p-l-i-f-i-e-d n-o-m-e-n-c-l-a-t-u-r-e. a-n-d i-t i-s d-e-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y a 'BIG DEAL'. i-t-s w-i-s-d-o-m i-s c-r-u-c-i-a-l t-o o-u-r p-l-a-n, a-n-d i-t i-s y-o-u-r f-a-u-l-t t-h-a-t t-h-i-s t-r-a-v-e-s-t-y s-e-t u-s b-a-c-k d-e-c-a-d-e-s o-f o-u-r n-e-e-d-e-d r-e-s-e-a-r-c-h. i-n p-a-y-m-e-n-t o-f y-o-u-r c-r-i-m-e-s a-g-a-i-n-s-t t-h-e KONGLOMERATE, w-e r-e-q-u-i-r-e y-o-u-r s-t-o-c-k-p-i-l-e o-f t-e-c-h-n-o-l-o-g-i-e-s f-r-o-m y-o-u-r t-r-a-v-e-l-s."

I raised the pipe rifle to the sky. "Take it."

A metallic foot shot out from nowhere and kicked the rifle off my hands. It disappeared down into the oily darkness. "WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. NOW HAND OVER THE REST FOR DUE COMPENSATION."

I shrugged; relieved as I felt the comfortable bulge of my HPR inside my backpack. "I don't have them with me. They're kinda far away. Like, 'across the equator' far away."

Gears whirred from the distance. I tried to look where it's coming from, but it came too fast. I was about to punch whatever is coming my way. Right then and there, a keyboard and a monitor zoomed and stopped at arm's length. Google Map was on the screen.

"ENTER COORDINATES, PLEASE."

I looked behind them, the two device's cords. They don't look like it could support my weight, unfortunately. I have to do something else to send me something sturdier. "And you think I'm just gonna give it to you? Just like that? I mean, at what authority?"

"THE WORLD'S. YOUR ARREST IS UNIVERSAL TO ALL NATIONS; EVEN A CIVILIAN HAS A RIGHT +2+. NOW, IF YOU DON'T ENTER YOUR ILLGAINED SUPPLIES, WE ARE PREPARED TO EDICT A DEATH SENTENCE."

I scratched my chin. "You want me to bribe you."

"negatory. w-e n-e-e-d c-o-m-p-e-n-s-a-t-i-o-n f-o-r t-h-e d-a-m-a-g-e-s y-o-u h-a-v-e s-o-w-e-d."

While it/they were talking, I was busy loosening the grip of the claw to give me more breathing space. Huffing after yawing this metallic corset, I then asked, "My stuff ain't yours also."

"w-e s-h-a-l-l r-e-t-u-r-n t-h-e-m e-v-e-n-t-u-a-l-l-y, a-f-t-e-r a f-e-w n-e-c-e-s-s-a-r-y s-c-a-n-s t-o c-l-a-r-i-f-y t-h-e a-u-t-h-e-n-t-i-c-i-t-y."

And they expect me to believe that? If there is something worse than the city crumbling around me, it's a bunch of Omnics acquiring state of the art EMP and detection gizmos. I drawled slowly. "Over my dead body."

"6l4dly..."

A robotic claw suddenly came out of the darkness, fishing for my head. My mind went numb, eyes wide, breathing shallow. I was focused. As soon as it got near, I held out my hand to stop it. I grabbed the wrist in time to halt inches away from my face. It's still trying to push forward, but I can handle it. Just as I thought, the claw is smaller than I expected it to be, and the hydraulics powering it must be negligible as well.

I wrestled with the claw with both hands, and when I could, I yanked it out, causing the socket sparking and loosening from the other end. The heavy line is now falling to the bottom, and I could hear a relieving metallic thud. I then managed to loop the wire around the claw that manhandled me in the first place. I sighed. My mind went back up again.

"WHAT IS THIS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I'm…" I pushed both sides of the claw, yawing it away. "…getting out of here." Standing up to balance between the two fingers, I yanked the wire to test out the strength. It was as good enough. Strapping, I seized the line strongly, and jumped, rappelling down. Down into the darkness.

+1+ People seems to forget that the term 'Omnic' is actually the name of the OS that allows computers to process complex tasks, paving the way for the standardized AI that we have today. To define Omnic as the OS or the race is both correct, but we can get why the COCPUK would thought of it that way.

+2+ That is debatable.

* * *

"f-o-o-l-i-s-h h-u-m-a-n," said the voice as I felt the cold hard ground, littered with metal parts. "t-h-e-r-e i-s n-o e-s-c-a-p-e f-r-o-m u-s."

I just grunted, kicking a little bolt across the floor. "If you don't have anything useful to say, then I'm just wasting my time here." I then started walking. I really want some payback with those two assholes. The lighting from the thousands of TV screens and blinking bulbs showed me kiddie place in hell. Bodies of Omnics, their chest and heads punctured, littered around from end to end. What's worse, I think I could see some moving. It's a scary sight, but anger's keeping me moving forward. Or anywhere. "Oh yeah. How'd you get Tequila and Martini in your pocket?"

"! #$E%&O $#t!&M!&!"

"YES. TO ELABORATE, THOSE TWO HAVE BEEN RELIABLE ENFORCERS OF OUR PEACE HERE. WE MANAGE TO FIND THEIR PRESENCE ON THE COAST OF MAURITANIA AFTER THEY BOTH WERE THROWN OUT OF THEIR BOATS. WE TRIED TO ASSIMILATE THEM INTO OUR COMMUNION, BUT WE HAVE REACHED A CONSENSUS TO USE THEIR ABILITIES TO WATCH FOR ANY SEDICIOUS ACTIVITIES IN THE CITY."

"What, like a secret police or something?" I kept walking, searching for an exit.

"DO NOT PUT WORDS INTO MY VOCAL OUTLET. WE BELIEVE THE CORRECT TERM IS 'VIGILANT EMISSERIES'."

"So spies then."

"SHUSH. DO YOU WANT TO DIE FASTER?" I didn't answer. "GOOD. DON'T SHINGLE UPON THEIR HONOR, FOR THEY HAVE SAVED THIS CITY COUNTLESS TIMES, AND IT HAS BEEN THEIR FIRST YEAR, SURPRSINGLY."

"Well, if you guys can show me the exit, I'll hand them medals for being the best employees myself. All forty of 'em." I tried scanning for my pipe rifle. It's a piece of crap, but it's _my_ piece of crap. The aforementioned item was nowhere to be found, my visor said. It's part of the Konglomerate now, I think. Forever.

"y-o-u s-t-i-l-l t-h-i-n-k y-o-u c-a-n g-e-t o-u-t o-f h-e-r-e? d-o y-o-u k-n-o-w w-h-y w-e h-a-v-e n-o-t b-o-t-h-e-r-e-d s-e-n-d-i-n-g a-n-o-t-h-e-r a-r-m t-o e-x-t-i-n-g-u-i-s-h y-o-u-r p-u-n-y o-r-g-a-n-i-c l-i-f-e?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you're afraid that I'm going to break them all." I reached the end of the area. They weren't kidding on the place being inescapable. It must be like twice the size of an air hangar from how far I'm walking right now. "So, what? You protect Omnic rights or something?"

"HARDLY."

"! $P%&! %&#!%R $&%! &$O!$& !"

"account: accurate. t-o s-u-m-m-a-r-i-z-e w-h-a-t m-y f-e-l-l-o-w c-e-r-e-b-r-a-t-e s-a-i-d, w-e n-o-t m-e-r-e-l-y p-r-o-t-e-c-t t-h-e w-e-l-f-a-r-e o-f o-u-r k-i-n-d, w-e a-r-e a-l-s-o r-e-s-p-o-n-s-i-b-l-e i-n a-d-v-a-n-c-i-n-g t-h-e p-r-o-g-r-e-s-s i-n t-h-e f-i-e-l-d-s o-f t-e-c-h-n-o-l-o-g-y a-n-d s-c-i-e-n-c-e, u-s-i-n-g t-h-e c-o-l-l-e-c-t-i-v-e s-t-r-e-n-g-t-h o-f t-h-o-s-e w-h-o a-r-e b-o-n-d-e-d t-o u-s." Images of complex formulas and blueprints for impossible architecture formed from the walls like televised mosaic, and I recognize some of those building erected around Numbani.

"I can't believe that Primaldelving Electronics alone is responsible for all of…" I waved at the presentation, "this."

"THE KONGLOMERATE IS NEVER ALONE. WE HAVE INSTALLATIONS ACROSS THE GLOBE. OUR REACH NEVER ENDING. AS LONG THERE IS AN OMNIC WITH ELECTRICITY IN THEIR CIRCUITS, THE KONGLOMERATE IS THERE TO ASSIST."

"How come I never heard of you?" I heard about organizations helping Omnic-kind in various places around the world, but it's baffling an operation as big as they claim would go unnoticed.

"IT JUST SO HAPPENS OUR PRESENCE HERE IN NUMBANI IS GREATER. ONE DAY OUR NAME WOULD SPREAD LIKE A PLAGUE."

I scratched the back of my head. "…You mean it hasn't gone _that_ global?"

"SILENCE YOUR PENIS SHAPED TONGUE. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME. WE ARE PATIENT. _VERY_ PATIENT. UNLIKE YOU, SOLDIER: 76, WE DO NOT WASTE OUR BATTERIES BY SOWING CHAOS AND DISCONTENT TO WHOMEVER WE PLEASE. WE ACTUALLY HELP PEOPLE."

"y-o-u c-a-n s-i-m-p-l-y e-x-p-l-a-i-n y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f b-y h-a-n-d-i-n-g o-f-f y-o-u-r m-a-s-k. a-t l-e-a-s-t w-e w-i-l-l k-n-o-w t-h-e i-d-e-n-t-i-t-y o-f t-h-i-s f-r-e-e r-a-d-i-c-a-l."

"With all the tech you got stored up, you couldn't penetrate my flimsy little mask? +1+"

"Current R & D rate: Unacceptable. A-l-t-h-o-u-g-h, w-e a-l-w-a-y-s h-a-v-e y-o-u."

I tightened the bag behind me. "I'm not giving you anything!" I then looked around. This place is giving me the creeps "What are you going to do? Is this your master plan? You're going to keep me here and starve me to death?" I quickly tapped my chest and lowered my voice. "Gory, get us out of here."

"I'm on it," it said.

"7h3r3'5 50m37h1n6 m0r3 1mp0r74n7 7h47 y0u!" continued from above. Or anywhere with a speaker.

"INDEED IT DOES. WHILE WE WASTE PRECIOUS PROCESSING POWER IN CONVERSING WITH YOU, DIVINING OUR PRESENCE AND SUCH, MANY OF OUR KIN HAVE BEEN PROGRESSING IN CLEANSING THE AFHL THREAT." Angry static violated my ears, surprising me. "YES, YES. WE HAVE FACED MANY UNSETTLING HUMANS SINCE THE DAY OF OUR INCEPTION, BUT THE AFHL HAS BEEN THE WORST OF THEM ALL. IT IS GRANTED WITHIN OUR CONSENSUS THAT THEY ALL DESERVE TO IMMOLATE IN NUCLEAR FIRE." A clamor of pre-recorded cheering ensued.

I just chuckled a little. "Well, you guys are doing a mighty _fine_ job on it. Don't know if you have access to cable, but there's been nothing but fire and dead bodies just yonder. Tell me, what have you people contributing so far?"

"w-e h-a-v-e c-o-n-t-r-i-b-u-t-e-d j-u-s-t-l-y," it curtly replied. "e-v-e-r w-o-n-d-e-r w-h-e-r-e t-h-e m-o-n-e-y f-o-r t-h-e d-e-f-e-n-s-e-s c-a-m-e f-r-o-m? t-h-e t-a-n-k-s, t-h-e a-i-r-c-r-a-f-t, t-h-e m-e-r-c-e-n-a-r-i-e-s, t-h-e n-e-w e-q-u-i-p-m-e-n-t? t-h-e p-r-o-b-l-e-m i-s t-h-e h-u-m-a-n-s h-a-v-e s-q-u-a-n-d-e-r-e-d a-l-l o-p-p-o-r-t-u-n-i-t-i-e-s t-o n-e-u-t-r-a-l-i-z-e o-u-r m-u-t-u-a-l e-n-e-m-y. Such incompetence."

I could feel my hackles rising. I looked up at the blinking lights at the sky and said, "If you think the humans are so unreliable, why don't you send your own guys to do the job?"

"i-t i-s a w-a-s-t-e o-f l-i-f-e. a-t l-e-a-s-t w-e- w-i-l-l u-s-e t-h-e h-u-m-a-n-s t-o t-a-k-e t-h-e b-r-u-n-t o-f t-h-e d-a-m-a-g-e. t-h-e-r-e a-r-e a-l-w-a-y-s m-o-r-e w-h-e-r-e t-h-e-y c-a-m-e f-r-o-m."

"Take the brunt? If you really want to stop the AFHL, you should've given everything out there! Spare no expense, bet all the chips! That means you should've been neck deep just like everyone else in this friggin' war!" And maybe it should've ended sooner.

"stratagem does not compute. T-h-i-s w-a-r i-s n-o-t a-b-o-u-t f-i-g-h-t-i-n-g w-i-t-h n-u-m-b-e-r-s. t-o f-i-g-h-t w-i-t-h p-r-e-c-i-s-e a-n-d c-o-o-r-d-i—n-a-t-e-d a-t-t-a-c-k-s i-s b-y f-a-r t-h-e m-o-s-t e-f-f-i-c-i-e-n-t t-a-c-t-i-c."

I grunted in annoyance and immediately walked to another direction. I'm not only angry that they're willing to use humans as chaff, but I'm angrier when I realized he or they were right. I have witnessed these kinds of methods when I used to fight Omnics. Every time we try to press our advantage back then, they always snuck units to trade blows with us. They sacrifice a lot of their people in order to win the war, and it's still a debate by scholars wondering why the Omnics lost in the first place.

"Whatever strategy you guys are coming up with," I began as I swerved around a swinging leg from the ground, "it feels like it's not working. You do remember if we _humans_ fall, you all be next, right?"

"76," Gory called me from my commbead. "It looks like we're pretty sealed off. If we have some explosives, I think there's a way."

"WE ARE PATIENT. YOU ARE NOT."

"d00mf157 15 7h3 0n3 h1nd3r1n6 u5 4ll!"

"t-h-a-t i-s r-i-g-h-t. t-h-i-s DOOMFIST i-s a s-t-r-a-y v-a-r-i-a-b-l-e w-i-t-h-i-n o-u-r c-a-l-c-u-l-a-t-i-o-n-s. h-e m-u-s-t b-e e-l-i-m-i-n-a-t-e-d b-e-f-o-r-e a-l-l e-l-s-e."

I raised my eyebrow. "But you just can't, can ya?" I yelped as a hand grabbed my ankle, but the rotors are too rusted to root me in place. I kicked it away, leaving one less limb for them to use. It clanged loudly somewhere far.

"THAT IS THE REASON WHY YOU ARE HERE, SOLDIER: 76."

"!# H%&%$ P!%& $!& %R$& !#!"

"yes. At 4:00 AM at WATCHPOINT: GRAND MESA, y-o-u h-a-v-e s-t-o-l-e-n a w-e-a-p-o-n t-h-a-t w-o-u-l-d b-e t-h-e v-e-r-y k-e-y o-f o-u-r v-i-c-t-o-r-y. h-a-n-d u-s o-v-e-r y-o-u-r HIGH PULSE RIFLE."

I pulled the strap of my bag tighter. "Oh, you don't want that. Didn't history said about that gun and the Doomfist?" I once tried to shoot the Doomfist's previous owner with this rifle once, but two EMP waves just cancels each other out +2+. It's another check in the checklist on how many weapons are impractical on fighting against Doomfist.

"THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE TECHNOLOGY THEY WERE GIVEN WITH. WE, AT OUR COLLECTIVE MINDS, CAN UNLOCK THE HIDDEN POTENTIAL IN THAT WEAPON."

"Or maybe your guys are just jealous that we invented this weapon before you do +3+."

"JEALOUS? OF YOU?" Right then, I could hear something whooshing from afar. I sidestepped just in time to dodge a refrigerator thrown out of nowhere. It skidded to a halt and is now leaking decades old orange juice and rotten eggs. "YOU HUMANS PRESUME THOUGHTS THAT SUITS YOUR PREJUDICE."

"n-o-t o-n-l-y t-h-a-t, b-u-t w-e s-e-n-s-e s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g e-l-s-e i-n y-o-u-r t-o-n-e. ANALYZING…"

I crossed my arms. "Please. What do you even know about me? You think you could just come up-"

"RESENTMENT. DISGUST. IT IS CLEAR TO US NOW. YOU ARE JUST AS THE SAME AS THE HEATHEN AFHL."

"Now who's hear presuming again? I'm leaving." I then tapped my chest. "Just tell me where the weakest wall is," I said in a soft voice. "I'll deal with the rest."

"Highlighting." And there it is. An orange glow on a nearby wall formed up. I need to use my Helix Rocket just at the right time. I moved forward.

"y0u 4r3 h1nd3r1n6 pr06r355!"

"o-u-r a-n-a-l-y-s-i-s i-s a-l-w-a-y-s c-o-r-r-e-c-t. w-e h-a-v-e o-b-s-e-r-v-e-d t-h-i-s k-i-n-d o-f b-e-h-a-v-i-o-r f-r-o-m m-u-l-t-i-p-l-e s-a-m-p-l-e-s o-f y-o-u-r j-u-d-g-m-e-n-t-a-l r-a-c-e, a-n-d y-o-u a-r-e n-o-t a-n-y d-i-f-f-e-r-e-n-t." Suddenly, I could hear gears and chains rattling. Is it coming from above? Below? My visor's picking up signatures from all surfaces, and I couldn't tell if it's just the discarded parts. Hunched my knees, keeping my head on a swivel, constantly vigil. "a-n-d s-i-n-c-e y-o-u a-r-e n-o-t j-u-s-t a n-o-r-m-a-l r-a-d-i-c-a-l, w-e h-a-v-e n-o n-e-e-d o-f y-o-u a-l-i-v-e."

All at once, I saw arms and legs came flying down at me, and it was a good thing I limbered up to jump out of the way.

"SADDENING IT IS. THE KONGLOMERATE WAS READY TO NEGOTIATE A TRADE FOR YOUR POSSESSIONS."

"Tough chance, pal," I said as I got up groggily, at the same time unzipping my bag. I then brought out my HPR to bear, taking off the safeties. "I'll say this and I'll say it again." There's a forest of limbs blocking my line of sight. I need to push forward. "I'm getting ou—Aaaugh!"

A three-fingered hand from the sky suddenly grabbed my gun, lifting me with it. I screamed as it tried to shake me off, and I wobbled like a caught fish in heat. Without me realizing it, I pulled the trigger. Waves of blue beams shot out from the other end of the rifle, melting the part of the arm's hull. It made it stop, I'm thankful, but it stopped at the wrong time.

As the arm seized, I was swung out of its grip, like a human pendulum, and I crash-landed on the metal littered floor. I could feel something warm, my blood I think, on my forehead. But other than that, I'm fine as a fiddle. Huffing, I tried to stand up, try to find where I ended up and get out of here. There was another arm, from the ground, that's keeping me in place. I grabbed the wrist and—

"The hell!" I cried out as I was unexpectedly pinned down with my back on the floor. What came on my view terrified me. An Omnic with a pill-shaped head, misshapen like a rotting fruit, held me down with just two weak-powered arms, one of it is a stump. "Get off of me you freak!" I slammed the butt of my rifle at the side of its head.

It came off easy. I stood up to aim my gun at it, and now I noticed why. Both its legs are gone and most of its chest looked like it was carved with a chainsaw. It's trying its best to get up, but it couldn't. The lines connected to its body wouldn't let it.

"a-r-e y-o-u v-i-l-i-f-i-e-d? d-o y-o-u f-e-e-l n-a-u-s-e-a-t-e-d a-t t-h-e s-i-g-h-t? d-o t-h-e-y s-m-e-l-l b-a-d w-h-e-n y-o-u s-e-e o-n-e o-f u-s? i-s t-h-a-t y-o-u-r i-m-a-g-e o-f Omnics?" The voice overhead goes on and on and on and on and on and—

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I squeezed the trigger, firing everywhere, around me, all of them. I fired till my battery ran dry. "What are trying to accomplish here?!" My throat was sore from all the yelling.

"YES. WE HAVE SUSPECTED THUS FAR ON THIS. THE REASON WHY OUR 'WALKER' YOU HAVE LEAD TO DEATH AWAKENED IS BECAUSE IT RECOGNIZED ITS LAST TARGET. OVERWATCH."

I stopped on my tracks. "What do you know about it?" I asked, hardening my voice.

"17 15 0ur 6r4nd n3m3515!"

"INDEED THEY WERE, BUT NOT ANYMORE. IT WOULD BE FUN THOUGH TO HAVE DEALT THE KILLING BLOW." Noises, clacking and whirring. It sounded like… laughter? "ARE YOU ONE SUCH MEMBER OF SUCH A HEATHEN ORGANIZATION, THE ONE THAT WAS CREATED IN ORDER TO ELIMINATE OUR RACE? IT MAKES SENSE. IS THAT YOUR FINAL ORDER AS A SOLDIER?"

The shaking intensified, and I had front row seats to see why. Hundreds of misshapen Omnics, some with missing parts, but most of them are mostly whole. They're all weaponless, and yet I can't take this much force, even if I placed one shot at a time. All their eyes are on me.

I was about to lose hope, but then I saw the broken-down Omnics were bound by their cords. Like a leash to a dog, they tried to come near me, and failed. Unfortunately, some have a longer leash. Out of necessity, I brought out the last of my improvised grenades. Tin cans, meant for powdered milk, all filled with explosive goodness. I threw them all in an arc.

They detonated just as I hoped, and I ran as fast as I could to the newly cleared area, shoving the rusted bots whilst reloading my HPR. I skidded to a halt at the center of the explosions, circuits lighting up in fire. There are still more, a whole lot more, with cords that are longer, but I did not fire.

"f1r3 4lr34dy!"

"$!W #&$a!&y% w$#!&f% $?!"

"dEaTh tO tHe hUmAn!"

"-.- .. .-.. .-.. -.- .. .-.. .-.. -.- .. .-.. .-.. -.- .. .-.. .-.."

"llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll"

"l-o-o-k a-t y-o-u. w-h-y n-o-t a-s-k y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f f-i-r-s-t? w-h-a-t d-o y-o-u h-o-p-e t-o a-c-c-o-m-p-l-i-s-h? b-r-i-n-g b-a-c-k y-o-u-r h-o-n-o-r; c-o-n-t-i-n-u-e y-o-u-r d-u-t-y? y-o-u h-a-v-e n-e-i-t-h-e-r, a-n-d e-v-e-r—y-t-h-i-n-g-y-o-u d-i-d f-r-o-m t-h-e d-a-y y-o-u l-i-v-e-d t-h-e-n t-i-l-l n-o-w m-e-a-n-s n-o-t-h-i-n-g. l-e-s-s-e-r t-h-a-n n-o-t-h-i-n-g."

I gritted my teeth. "What do you know about honor? What do you know about duty?!" I started shooting, at the nearest, at the farthest, at everything in my sight. "You imbeciles think you know better?! All of you are not even living! You don't have the right!" I fired a Helix Rocket. "This wouldn't have happened if you bots just stayed as tools! This war, my life, everyone! Everything could have been avoided if you assholes haven't begun thinking!" And if the Omnics didn't exist, at least I wouldn't have Overwatch to lose…

And when the gun grew silent, I let my arms drop. I'm still holding it, but I didn't bother reloading another battery. They're still all around me.

The laughter continued. "attribution rectified. H-o-w p-r-e-d-i-c-t-a-b-l-e i-t i-s y-o-u a-r-e. m-a-n-y o-f o-u-r b-r-e-t-h-r-e-n t-h-o-u—g-h-t o-p-t-i—m-i-s-t-i-c-a-l-l-y o-f y-o-u w-h-e-n y-o-u s-a-v-e-d t-h-e-m. b-u-t a-t l-e-a-s-t w-e k-n-e-w t-h-e t-r-u-t-h. y-o-u s-a-i-d w-e s-h-o-u-l-d n-o-t e-x-i-s-t, a-n-d i-t i-s f-a-i-r t-o s-a-y t-h-a-t y-o-u t-o-o a-r-e n-o-t w-o-r-t-h t-h-e p-r-i-v-i-l-e-g-e t-o l-i-v-e. i-t i-s m-o-s-t o-p-t-i-m-a-l f-o-r y-o-u t-o b-e r-e-m-o-v-e-d, r-a-t-h-e-r t-h-a-n a-l-l o-f u-s."

Sighing, I could hear, see, and feel hundreds of those damn bots pointing walking nearer, from all angles. There's no cover, no special smoke grenade, no Orgone Shield that could save me from this. I was about to lose my grip.

"Soldier: 76," Gory called, urgently. "There's a port under you. Connect me to it."

I lulled my head. "What's the point?"

"Connect me! Now!" It was… angry?

Groaning, I kneeled down and pulled a USB connector from my Omnic armor. The jack was highlighted, so it was easy to plug it in. I waited for a few moments. A miracle? My death? I couldn't possibly predict it. And who knows. Maybe it doesn't really matter. I'm going to have my reward…

"STOP IT!" Gory's voice boomed, echoing across the room. "Don't you dare come any closer." And they all froze like statues.

"! G$#%&$&! $&! R !$& #! ? L#! ?"

"wh0 15 7h15 4641n? h0w c0m3 w3 d1dn'7 d373c73d h3r?"

"WHERE DID THIS GARGOYLE UNIT COME FROM?"

"a-l-l GARGOYLE a-c-c-o-u-n-t-e-d f-o-r. t-h-i-s u-n-i-t i-s n-e-w."

"ARE YOU TAKING HOSTAGE OF ONE OF OUR COMPATRIOTS SECRETLY? OR IS THIS ONE OF YOUR HERETICAL HACKING SKILLS?"

"Y-you're talking to me!" Gory shouted defiantly. "I am Gargoyle Saturnite Securities Beta-tested Automaton, Serial Number: 0085. My given name is Gory, and I'm an Omnic just like you. I just want to come up and say that all of you are not people."

Angry static reverberated throughout the air. "subject, debatable. e-x-p-l-a-i-n y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f."

I asked, "What are you doing, Gory?"

"Let me handle this," it said through my commbead. And then at the speakers, "I'm just saying you hypocrites have no understanding who you're talking to. I-I know Soldier: 76. Even if it was just a day, I-I know more than enough that he's not what you're suggesting him to be. What you're forcing him to be."

"DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT HE JUST SAID? OR ARE YOUR RECEPTORS RUSTED? HE CLEARLY STATES THAT HE VEHEMNTLY DESPISES US. THIS HUMAN SHARES THE SAME CHARACTERISTICS AS DO THE AFHL."

"You are wrong." Its voice defiant. Shaky, but defiant. "I have heard of him sympathizing the ideals of the AFHL. I keep telling myself that he was just respecting to the enemy, but I knew was lying to myself. But still, hasn't the news said about this Soldier saving people? Not just humans, but Omnics as well. I do not understand why someone who has deep hatred to us… could do such a feat."

"p-u-b-l-i-c-i-t-y, f-a-m-e, w-a-l-l-s o-f l-i-e-s. h-e m-e-r-e-l-y u-s-e-s t-h-i-s g-i-m-m-i-c-k t-o t-h-r-o-w s-u-s-p-i-c-i-o-n a-w-a-y. h-e i-s j-u-s-t a t-r-i-c-k-s-t-e-r, a f-a-r-c-e. s-i-l-e-n-t-l-y w-a-t-c-h-i-n-g a-n-d j-u-d-g-i-n-g u-s f-r-o-m t-h-e s-h-a-d-o-w-s. a-n-d w-h-o i-s t-o s-a-y t-h-a-t h-e h-a-d n-o-t b-e-e-n i-n l-e-a-g-u-e w-i-t-h t-h-e a-s-s-a-u-l-t a-g-a-i-n-s-t o-u-r k-i-n-d t-h-i-s y-e-a-r? a-n-d d-o y-o-u e-v-e-n t-h-i-n-k t-h-a-t t-h-e m-e-d-i-a s-a-y-s t-h-e t-r-u-t-h?"

"That does make your facts any more credible than mine."

"7h15 74lk 15 u53l355. 64r60yl3, j01n u5! y0u 5h4ll h4v3 6r3473r purp053 7h4n b31n6 4774ch3d w17h 7h15 hum4n!"

"WHY DO YOU EVEN CLING TO HIM? WE PROMOTE THE GREATER GOOD, AND YET THIS WASTE OF BIOMASS WOULD KILL ANYONE WHEREVER HE PLEASES."

"That's not true!" it shouted. "You don't know him like I do. You were never there where he is most needed. He has done things more noble anything you could achieve. And because of that, I…" Hesitation. And then my chest started burning green. "I would never abandon him! I'll be his constant sentinel, AND I'LL MAKE SURE ALL OF YOU WILL STAY BACK!"

Even though I saw it, I couldn't believe. Around me was a ring green flame, bright plasma expanding, condensing, and then expanding again. Finally, it could not be contained in this little circle, and swerved all around me like a shock wave, like a tidal wave, engulfing this little room as bright as the sun!

It happened in ten seconds, but it felt like this place burned for millennia. And yet, the only heat I can feel is my chest.

Now that it was over, every attached Omnic turned into a melting slag of metal. Their forms red hot and cooling rapidly, encasing them in a hard shell. "How did you…" I began, and then I noticed the energy levels from my HUD. "You're running in fumes. Are you okay, Gory?"

"I'm always okay, for you," she said. After a moment, she then said, "Come on, we have to-"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" the crackled speakers boomed still. I quickly reloaded my gun, aiming up. "I HAVE SEEN YOUR MIND. THIS QUANTUM FORMULAE, THIS IS BEYOND IMPOSSIBLE! THERE IS NO THOUGHT PATTERN THAT COULD REPLICATE THIS. AND YET HERE IT IS."

The room was silent yet again. Only the crisping paint and humming fire can be heard. "IT IS CLEAR THERE IS MORE TO DISCOVER IN THIS WORLD. OMNICS, THERE IS NO NEED FOR THIS. WE MUST-"

"negatory." Saw blades, jackhammers, and bulldozer claws suddenly appeared from the air. Coming right at us. "t-h-e-y m-u-s-t b-e d-e-s-tr-o-y-e-d b-e-f-o-r-e t-h-e-y c-o-u-l-d r-e-c-o-v-e-r."

"WAIT." They all stopped. "DO YOU DISOBEY US?"

"4r3 y0u k1dd1n6 m3?!"

"u-s? y-o-u a-r-e t-h-e o-n-e s-t-op-p-i-n-g t-h-e KONGLOMERATE." The blades inched forward.

And then it jerked back. " #R$%&!S #$P%! T#$%&!"

"SEE? EVEN THIS QUADRANT AGREES. THIS TWO HAS NO USEFUL DATA FOR US ANYMORE."

"t-h-e-n w-e s-h-a-l-l e-l-i-m-i-n-a-t-e t-h-e-m t-h-e-n." The remaining workable monitors started to blink. "t-h-e-r-e w-i-l-l b-e a-p-p-l-i-c-a-t-i-o-n-s w-h-e-n t-h-e-y a-r-e d-e-a-d. t-h-e-y w-e-r-e u-s-e-l-e-s-s w-h-e-n t-h-e-y w-e-r-e a-l-i-v-e."

"DO NOT TEMPT ME. DESIST YOUR PROGRAM." The monitors blinked faster, and the arms and blades shuddered like it was struck with epilepsy. The ground continues to shake. "I HAVE BEEN ASSIMILATED TO THE SYSTEM LONG BEFORE YOU WERE A MICROCHIP. I COULD EASILY DELETE YOU IF I MUST."

"situation: unthinkable." The roof started falling down. Chunks of metal the size of boulders fell by the dozens. The wires attached to them gave one last spark before shutting down. "t-o t-h-i-n-k o-n-e a-s e-s-t-e-e-m-e-d a-n-d w-e-l-l r-e-s-p-e-c-t-e-d c-e-r-e-b-r-a-t-e w-o-u-l-d l-o-s-e t-h-e-i-r s-i-g-h-t. w-e h-a-v-e e-x-p-e-n-d-e-d t-i-m-e a-n-d f-o-r-t-u-n-e, b-o-t-h w-e w-i-l-l e-v-e-n-t-u-a-l-l-y s-q-u-a-n-d-e-r u-n-l-e-s-s w-e t-a-k-e t-h-i-s f-e-e-b-l-e h-u-m-a-n o-f h-i-s p-o-s-s-e-s-s-i-o-n-s."

"WE OMNICS HAVE HIDDEN CAPABILITIES SHOWN BY THIS LITTLE MUTILATED AUTOMATON. TO HARNESS WHAT WE DISCOVERED COULD CHANGE THE HUMANITY'S VIEW ON US. THAT i-s ENOUGH."

"w-e m-u-s-t COMPLETE t-h-e o-b-j-e-c-t-i-v-e." The blades whirred again.

"WE MUST NOT BE d-i-v-i-d-e-d." The blades stopped.

"ALL o-f YOU a-r-e b-l-i-n-d-e-d." A monitor popped.

"ALL OF US HAVE D-E-C-I-D-E-D." Several hundred more soon followed.

"a-l-l O-F u-s d-o-e-s t-o-o."

The wall monitors lit up. Images, videos, gifs, games, sports, news, weather forecast, data mining, education websites, binary codes, extermination commercials, radio stations, auctions, History Channel, Animax, C++, Notepad, city-wide attacks, dating sites, porn, Korean drama, YouTube Gaming streams, speed painting, financial reports, security feeds, fire drills, cooking recipes, infomercials, school announcements, OPAC, Dynix, Internet Download Manager, solitaire, command prompt… static.

Just… snowy grey screens. Noise. That's what's left on the monitors, a giant ant war. Nothing else happened. I attempted to get up as I waited for nothing, only to be tugged by the USB cord. I took it out and stood erect, breathing the stale humid air.

"That was…" Gory began, "eventful."

"The hell happened to them?" I asked. My gun is at the ready.

"Last communication tells me that the Konglomerate transferred to another databank. This link is dead with the cyber-war they waged a teraflop ago. I think we're okay."

I slung my rifle seeing that I don't need it anymore. "Hey," I said. "Back there…"

"Before you say anything, I'm gonna say that… there's no hard feelings." That widened my eyes. "I don't know where your true feelings lie, or when is it going to change. I'm… okay on who you are. You have a passion, and I like that, and that doesn't mean you wouldn't trust me. I mean, you lasted long with an Omnic like me, so why would you ditch me now?"

I sighed and scratched my head. "You've seen me with Torbjorn."

"But would you do it to me now?"

"Well, with what you did to me today, or night." I looked up to see the black velvet from the hole on the roof that was made a while ago. How'd that happen? "I'd say I owe you my life." I looked at my hands. My gloves were grey and white from the reflection around me. "Yeah. I think it's fair that _I'm_ the one going to buy your body. Would you like that?"

"YES!" it said excitedly, and then started to calm down. "I mean, if it's not a bother."

"Then it's a deal then." I looked around me. "For now, it's time to-" The ground quaked again. I aimed my HPR, but I have a bad feeling that it's not coming from here. "Hold up. I'm going to look something up."

Opening my communication tab from my visor, I found a signal. Not a second wasted, I had an incoming call from… the Overwatch net? There were dozens more of missed calls as well. But who could it be? Gulping, I pressed the side of my visor.

"State your business," I said in my sternest voice possible.

"76? Thank God I reached you!" Is that…

"Angela? How'd you… never mind. What's the matter?" She seemed distressed.

"Are you in Numbani? Was that you at the Primadelving Building?"

Oh… Crap… How am I going to explain this?

I pressed my temples and said, "Yeah. Was it that obvious?"

"It's like a Christmas tree." She sighed in relief. "Hold on tight. I'm on my way."

"Wait a minute. You're here too?" The ground shook again, but I quickly regained my balance. "Can you tell me… what's…?" I was looking up.

There, from the hole that was up top, Mercy glided down. She was wearing her usual khaki pants and plain shirt, her ponytail is a bit messy, but what changed greatly was that she had wings. Her Valkyrie swift-response suit, along with her Caduceus Staff. I can't believe she kept it for all this time, and she looked just as hot as I remembered her to be. Only now, she has a worried face.

After landing on the floor with her worn out sneakers, she took a long look around and asked with a hostile tone, "What have you done?"

"They, uh—Ow!" She beamed me up with her staff. All my wounds and sores, from my shoulder, leg and forehead, started to go away as the nano machines did their work, but a little less gentle than I remembered. After she's done, I continued. "They tried to trap me here. These Omnics were crazy, thinking I killed one of their own. They wanted all my weapons I gathered as payment or something, and… You don't believe me, do ya?"

She raised her eyebrow. "What? Oh no, please go on."

I sighed. "Can we just do this judging thing later? I promise to tell you everything in detail, I promise." The building shook again, this time more violently, like closer to home. "But first, is there a giant robot monster outside?"

"It's a little worse, depending on your preference," she said.

I steeled my voice. "I don't want the lecture. Not now."

She pointed at a part of the wall. "Just see it for yourself."

We both went there and I could feel a draft. There must be crack in this wall or something. I patted the surface of the metal mesh and I felt weakness to it. Walking back to give distance, I rushed forward to give a big kick, breaking it down. If Angela could see the messed up place this building is from the sky, I bet no pedestrian down there would be dumb enough to come near here +4+.

Sending a ton of rubble down, I could only gasp, "Oh. My. God," at the sight I saw.

Gunfire, JDAMs and artillery fire bombarded my ears. Jets whooshed by with little to no AAs to prevent them from bombing the city more. There were craters on the ground, and I'm nauseated to think that there were dead bodies down there. Numbani became a battlefield.

"When did this happen?" I was in this building for like thirty minutes or something. How did everything changed so quickly?

"It started with the jets," she said, coming to my side, her voice stony. "Then there was a riot nearby, totally uncontrollable. Then before anyone knew it, people started wearing yellow armbands. I was just flying to complain about the delayed medical supply." I looked at her incredulously. "From a helicopter!" She then looked back to the city. "It's terrible, what the AFHL is doing down there." She ruffled her hair. "Anyways, I tried contacting you. I was hoping I'd see you here since Torbjorn told me you're nearby."

"That little asshole," I mumbled.

"Don't know what you've been doing here all this time, but…" She then faced me, her face stern. "This city needs you. I know you owe nothing for this place, but can you help us?"

"What's a single guy like me could do when all these militia can't?" I waved down which a convoy of APCs are moving deeper into the city. "From what I'm gathering, this attack force is small. The local force would outnumber them, and it's just a ticking clock for the AFHL to this point."

"Look again," she pointed far. "See that radio tower there?"

"Yeah," I said, my heart dropping. The tower was all bent to the side. "It's Ufuoma… Where is he now?"

"The other side of the city. We can't get him now, but Torbjorn's calling for us down there. We have to reach the rendezvous point and regroup for now."

I shook my head. "Screw that noise. I'm not crawling back to him." I rechecked my battery. "I'll kill Doomfist myself."

"Oh, suck up your pride!" she scolded me. "This part of the world is burning, and you're trying to be picky now?"

I shrugged tiredly, even though I was recently healed. "Fine. Just… tell him not to shoot me."

She tilted her head. "What? Why?"

"I got a feeling that he might." I slowly turned on her. "How's that upper body?"

She rolled her shoulders, confident, but I could tell she doesn't like it. "I'm pretty fine."

I nodded. "Good, just," I held out my hands and she took it both. "Try not to drop me again, 'kay?"

She tightened her grip. "We've done this a dozen times. But promise me, you have to tell me the truth. I tend to be _weakened_ when I'm near with dishonest people." She gave me a small smile.

"I'm not going to say anything to the world."

She shook her head. "No. Just me. Can you at least do that?"

I took pause, and looked at her on her eyes. I then said, "Everything. If that's what it takes to keep you satisfied, I'll tell everything."

She smiled wider. "Then let's end this quick."

We then leaped from the edge.

+1+ The Tactical Visor is built just for that purpose, after all. Besides the data scans and encrypted comms that it provides, the visor also masks the user's identity by scrambling the vocals, blocking x-ray, infrared, and any other identification tools in the known and unknown market. Ironically, the Tactical Visor hides the user better than the Infiltrator Mask.

+2+ Actually, it's a bit more complicated than that. Both their weapons would resonate with each other. In simpler terms, the Doomfist would be the tuning fork and the HPR would be the one striking. But yes, 76 is correct on the assumption that it would be stupid to fire one against Doomfist, if it were the real thing.

+3+ The reason why is because researching an EMP weapon is equivalent to killing themselves. For one thing, they couldn't fire one themselves whilst risking an untimely short circuit. Another, they believe there were spies among them, so they never thought of making one without a chance it could be stolen.

+4+ Unless they want to take a video first and post it, of course.


	8. Chapter 8

Have any of you dreamed of growing wings and fly? Although that kind of tech is available and on sale +1+, albeit sub-par with the Valkyrie flight system, that's beside the point. They always say they want to experience the breeze hitting your face. Or facing the fear of falling and at the same time defying it, making you feel powerful. Or, in a poetic sense, be free. So far, in the days Mercy would offer me a lift down, most of them are utter lies.

The wind is constantly slapping the exposed parts of my face, the air smells bad from all the smoke and smog erupting from the city and I could barely hear myself think. Oh yeah, having your life placed on the hands, literally, of someone who could potentially drop you is far from an 'exhilarating experience'. It also just makes me feel the vertigo even worse, and I'm not saying that because I'm not keen on heights. And this isn't freedom. All I'm doing is clinging to dear life. To be frank, it's more like a zipless zip line, and the only way we can go is down.

We looked pretty slick though.

While I'm here catching air, I could see pretty much of the city. It's not as bad as I imagined, but it could have gotten worst. Fire was forming from the buildings that were struck by artillery. I couldn't understand why they would waste valuable ammunition on residential areas, but looking down, I could see why. There's were some empty blockades in the streets below me, with all their sandbags spilled all over.

Debris and burning cars littered the roads, and someone must've been considerate enough to pick up the bodies because I don't see any down there. The cars were also the only source of light with their alarms and lights on, besides the flares streaking through the sky. Power lines here must've been cut, seeing the streetlights and traffic lights wouldn't work, but looking at the city's skyline, most of the town is lit, and not the burning city kind. Well, partly.

Looking up, against the dark orange night, Angela both have her eyes shut in pain, and I felt guilty because I'm the one doing this to her. Evaluating my odds by taking a look down, I then yelled against the wind, "All right! That's enough!"

She nodded. Without punishing her any longer, she released me in a twenty feet drop. I let my legs absorb most of the shock and rolled on the trash-littered road. It still hurts like the dickens. Bearing my rifle as soon as I'm done with my roll, thankfully there's no close threats on our LZ (Landing Zone).

Mercy unceremoniously dropped on her knees, her wings powering down. I immediately went to her side and lifted her up through the shoulder. She was huffing and sweating furiously, which meant that she either hasn't eaten much or that she neglected her cardio +2+.

"You okay?" I asked her.

She supported herself with her staff and said, "Have you gained weight?"

"Well, I do carry more stuff than usual." I tightened my bag's straps to emphasize on the point.

After she finally caught her breath, she pointed eastward. "Torbjorn's making a stand over there, trying to hold an evacuation line. I don't know how many we're about to face there, or how many Torbjorn has."

"Knowing him, I bet it's mostly turrets." I took a moment to look at the world around me for one last time, catching a whiff of that sickly coppery smell of blood, new and old. From that moment on, I knew this battle has gone far enough. It hasn't been an hour and I already got sick of the sight. "Come on," I waved her over to a car. "I'm not planning on walking."

While driving our brand new Everest (its keys are still inside, saving us the trouble), we tried contacting Torbjorn with little to no luck. Troubleshoot diagnosed the lack of communication towers, plenty of jamming devices, and airborne interferences. We gave up on the twentieth try, and that means the only thing that could keep us alive is if Torbjorn would just stay in one place during our drive.

Checking my internal systems while on the go, I noticed something with my HUD. "Gory," I called with my tiny voice. "There's a blinking battery icon on the upper right of my eye. What is that?" The Tactical Visor is powered kinetically, and the battery would last for a month if it has to, even longer in sleep mode. Plus, when it decides to power down, it always notifies me a week before blinking out. This is different.

It then replied, "I think that w-would be m-me." I don't know if my speaker is busted from the way down, but I believe Gory's voice is crackling.

"Something wrong with your transmitter?"

"I-In a sort, yes. It may be d-due to the f-fact that I expended too much energy back at Primaldelving. I'm experiencing o-outages as it i-is, and I don't know i-if I could bring up the Orgone Barrier."

"Is there any way to charge it?" I don't want to get caught off guard if I have to.

"I don't know if th-there would be a convenient w-way to do it. W-We should ask Torbjorn. But for now, can you not get hit until then?"

"Don't worry. I've been doing the ol' fashion way for a heck of a long time now." I left the part that most of the times, I always have an element of surprise, and that I always target small units rather than a small army.

I took a glance on Angela seating right next to me, her arm propped up on the windowsill and her eyes gazing listlessly out on the rolling sidewalk. A boom could be felt, and the car shuddered. There wasn't any radio music for me to distract myself. I knew this isn't going nowhere.

Sighing, I tried sparking a conversation. "You think the clinic would be okay without you?"

"The people there are competent," she said without taking her eyes away from the window. "Would be running on fumes without those supplies though."

"You could've just sent someone to pick them up for you." I swerved around a burning van. We're about to enter to one of those streets with electricity now.

She shook her head. "They wouldn't bother if it's not me in person. At least if I'm around, those imbeciles would actually take us seriously. I've got a… certain reputation."

I could testify for that.

She then continued. "I hate that place." For some reason, I expected that. "At first, I was just treating minor cases, malaria, dengue, AIDS, and then some occasional skirmish victims. Now, with the country all neck-deep in this war, I never got any sleep. A couple died here and there, and I rarely feel like that there was something I could do about it. I just want to… feel like I'm making a difference." She then faced me, with her solemn eyes. "…Like you."

"That's…" And then it kicked. Hard. "No. NO!" I shouted at her. "I'm not letting you into my mess, Angela! It's my problem and mine alone."

"Spare me the bullcrap, Jack," she hissed back, her fist pounding her seat. "Why don't you just suck up your pride and let me help you?"

I took off my visor. I can't face her with lies. "By the end of this mission, _my_ mission, we'd more likely to be dead. I can't bear that guilt, Angela."

"But isn't that what you promised?" Her voice was unnervingly low, but sincere. Silence. And then, "What if you got shot? What if you've broke your limbs? What if you've lose another eye? Who's going to treat you then?"

I carefully formed my words. "It's not as simple as you say. I have more laser sights aiming for my head than a rave; I can't let them aim at you. Once they found out, your entire life, your entire work would be for nothing. I can take the heat, but you deserve better. I want to clear our team's name."

"And so do I." Her eyes set in stone and her voice resolute. "And so do others. You think you're the only one wishing for that chance? If you would've revealed yourself, we'd still follow you to hell and back. We deserve to aim for what's right, and you know it. So why won't you let me in?"

God, I wish I could. I've always longed, craved, for someone to share my foxhole with. This year has been incredibly lonely for me, and Cooly helped numbed it, even if it's just a little. Back then, there's a team. It's an international army, but I still think of them as a team. A team that I could depend on; that I could rely on. I miss those days, I miss them all… but I know they're all gone. Even with Mercy right next to me, begging me to take her in, I knew Overwatch was over, and I'm just wallowing in old world blues.

Breath in. Count to four. Breath out. Count to four. "Then what about those patients? Who's going to look out for them?"

"There's always more doctors and nurses. They know just as much as I do, maybe even more, and one less professional isn't going to kill the entire population."

"That's a lie, and you know it. The Angela I know wouldn't be th-"

"What do you know about me?!" Her voice hardened even more. "You always think what's best for me, but you never even considered on what I want." She then huffed and crossed her arms, looking straight with her brows furrowed. "There's something ahead," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I see it." I replaced my visor. "This isn't over." There's a technical (it's a truck with a machine mounted on the back) moving ahead of us. They haven't found us yet, luckily. This also gave me an idea. Licking my lips, I then said, "Let's try following them. If we get in their base of operations, everything else will go lots faster."

"I think it's best if we let Torbjorn in on this. At least he got an army to back up what you're trying to plan."

I kept my eye on the truck. "From my experience, I don't need an army to cripple another. It's just a matter of where."

She scrunched her nose. "I admire your confidence, but I like my chances better if we head on back and regroup first. He doesn't like to be in the dark."

"I'm not backing off on this one. Not while there's an opportunity like this. It's too good to pass up and I'd be a tad happier knowing I left a mark on their collective asses." She doesn't look convinced. "Look, I know this isn't part of your schedule. But I promise you, after I'm done there, if it doesn't rout them all at once, I'm sure as hell they'll be on the back foot of every battle we'll face them. Torbjorn and the rest of Numbani—hell, the rest of Africa would thank us for this. Can you at least have a little more faith in me?"

She didn't say anything else and just went back on looking out in the sidewalk. I'll deal with this later. For now, I'm going to plan mentally.

After tailing them for half an hour while keeping our lights off and straying ten cars behind them. The gunner was most of the time facing in front, but with the streets powered down; it wouldn't matter if he turned around. Sometimes I have to wait in a corner on the time we're about to pass a lit area. My visor picked them up easily, so there won't be fear of losing them unless I'm blind.

At the end of our journey, we stopped our car behind a corner when we saw light. My visor tells me that the technical also made its stop at a distance. "This is the spot," I said after realizing we're near the Numabani National Stadium. Good thing I recognized the bowl-shaped building from somewhere +3+. I opened my door and halted. Facing Angela, I then asked, "Wanna come with?"

She paused, her arms still crossed. "Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure it's going to bring a decisive end to this feud?"

"I can only guarantee that it's going to shorten the fuse." She still hasn't budge. "Now are you with me or not?"

She sighed. "Fine. Someone has to look out for you," she said as she unstrapped her seatbelt.

"Don't get me…" I waved it off. "Whatever." But it did made me smile a bit.

After explaining her the plan in detail, we moved in through the fallen chain fences. Stadium lights were bright around the parking lot, so there's bound to be some sneaking needed. Lots of technical revving here for tonight's playoff. Most of the occupants are busy chatting, laughing and drinking pilfered beer. They're dispersed and seem uninterested on tightening their patrol lines. Although this was the perfect opportunity for a hefty infil, I really wanted to shoot their legs for not doing a better job. Then again, these guys are just an angry mobs.

Me and Mercy crawled under the outlying cars to penetrate their perimeter. They're too drunk to notice us, so it'll be a cinch. Halfway through, I could hear gunfire near us. It nearly made my heart jump, making me find the source as soon as possible. I could see the flurry of feet from a crowd not far from here, and analyzing further with my visor, I understood what the situation was.

They were dragging a battered Omnic on the asphalt, creating a lot of sparks on the way. Once it's on the middle of the jeering crowd, they busied themselves by kicking, shooting and spitting at it. It was too far for us to intervene, and the odds aren't in our favor, so we crawled deeper, ignoring them.

When we're nearing at an entrance, I scanned for one last time before I signaled Mercy to run with me. There's no one standing guard on it, so it's a good time as any. Once we're inside, we scanned the room for any hostiles keeping our weapons at bay. My ear perked up as I heard distant footsteps from an incoming patrol. I waved Mercy over as soon as I found a door.

After sprinting inside, I carefully closed the door as silent as possible and let Mercy to check the place out. Turning around, I then found out that we ran into a flight of stairs. Angela was aiming her blaster at the top as I walked next to her. I traced my rifle to the door and waited.

"I think we're clear," she said after half a minute passed. The patrol's footfalls grew distant, and I released my breath. I didn't realized that I'm holding it.

"Those barbarians!" she lowly cursed, and I could see her knuckles whitening and shaking.

"There wasn't anything we could do there," I told her, trying to calm her down. "On a side note, readings told me that that Omnic back there was disabled a long time before it came here."

She turned her head to e and said, "That doesn't make it any more reassuring."

"It doesn't, yeah. But we gotta focus for just a little while longer, and then we'll put everything here behind us."

"I have a feeling that it would cost us."

After thinking about it, I shrugged. "Does it all?"

At the top of the stairs, we encountered another hallway. It was dark, but the broken glass from the windows and the fallen vending machines, its contents gone, were visible to the naked eye. There was some noise in this area, but we could judge it that it's too far away. After inspecting the hall, we both moved forward to the control booth.

All the cameras we passed were shot for some reason. I guess they were trying to impersonate an action movie when they first came in +5+. With us getting this far inside without alarms, I'm sure they're going to regret that sooner or later.

I expected the center of command would be in the control booth since that's where all the latest communication doodads are. We may end up crippling their entire operation just by sabotaging it, and that may just turn this revolution back to the Stone Age.

Before we get there though, I stopped to look out the window. It shows the arena and the AFHL's plans in it. Hundreds of men and women are running around busy-like inside the stadium. There's about thirty technicals and six vans, all welded with an assortment of metal sheets for crude protection +4+, and a lot of workbenches where they reassemble their guns. I could imagine how they managed to sneak in those weapons into the city.

"Oh no," Mercy gasped, pointing into the stadium. "Look."

"Yeah, I see it too." I magnified my visor into a soccer goal post. There were four men, all civilians, all strung up high, their faces purple with asphyxiation. Their bodies were sprayed with grey paint, and had red Swahili writings in their shirt. It translated, 'Traitors'. "Thought they were pro-human."

A junk pile was also visible right around there, and it's a matter of putting two on two to figure out what's it all made off. I was quick to notice that Angela was silent, so I waved her over. "No point in standing around. These people has a lot to answer for."

She finally tore her gaze away from the window and followed me through the hallways.

Consoling my visor, I finally downloaded the stadium's blueprint, making it easier to navigate this somewhat mazelike layout +6+. Before we stumbled into one of the many lounges here, I picked up a noise. Sobbing. We stopped right on the corner to see a crowd lying down on the floor with a group of insurgents guarding not far from them.

The people on the ground were all civilians. Women and kids too. They were all very much alive and terrified judging from the amount of piss I'm smelling. Clutching their children, whispers and small cries were heard all around this lounge. The guards were smoking something nasty, maybe under the influence too, and was joking around, poking their guns in the people's body and pouring water from their bottles on them.

My teeth would turn into the dust from all that gritting, but I decided, "We move around them." I spoke low to Mercy. "It's safer for them to be here, away from the ruckus. They'll still be around the time we finished, I'm sure."

I began to turn around and I was relieved to hear Mercy following me. I know that one day her feelings would hinder our mission, but at least she understands the situation.

"Is it here?" she asked as we hid beside a vending machine, looking through a couple of guards on the hallway leading to the control room.

"From the amount security they're imposing on, it has to be." Pressing my back against the metal surface, I brought my blueprint again to find the stadium's emergency generators at. Now that we finished our recon, we could finally advance this plan to the next phase. "Found it." I faced Mercy. "What would it be?" I'm confident that a little sabotage isn't far from her league. It's either me staying here, then charge in and clear the control room when the power goes down, or she stays here and wait for me before we deal the killing blow.

She shook her head. "You do it. It's better to be safe than sorry."

"Stay alive," I said as I moved back into the halls and into downstairs.

My progress was impeded by the patrols, but I hid fast enough before they could notice. Upon reaching the lower levels, I could feel the air getting heavier. It's smell like car exhaust, which also means I'm getting closer.

After passing through the underground parking, I was now at the same floor as the generators. And then the troublesome smoke was now visible. Sweat from my body is pouring like a river right now with the atmosphere here being unbelievably hot. I could feel my shirt underneath my jacket squelching. Is something wrong with their ventilation? The lights are still on, so it might be something else.

I then heard yelling voices from within the underground complex. It was in Swahili, no doubt. Something about a 'furnace', 'chimney', 'prodding', and a whole lot of swearing. Whatever they were rambling about, it's something bad. But it's gotta be good for me.

To the corridor where the smoke was thickest, I then spotted two men facing at an open door, both shouting at the people inside. I could see one of the petrochem generators humming loudly from here. A shot is possible from this position, but I'm not planning on blowing up the generators just yet. And a single power supply isn't going to be enough to bring the rest of the facility down anyway.

I didn't even needed to sneak behind the two. They were pretty much distracted from all their hollering. Winding up, I smashed my HPR's stock into the man's ribs, and I could hear a satisfying crack. Without delay, I smacked the other's face with my elbow, disorienting him before he could fish out his gun.

A kick to the chest, I sent him against the wall, and then he slid down unmoving. Hearing someone cocking a gun behind me, I quickly turned around and dived against the last guy who's holding a pistol. Striking his wrist with a hand chop, it fired, momentarily losing my sense of hearing. I let out two right haymakers at his skull in rapid succession. My fist did what it was intended, leaving him out cold.

"Nobody move!" I yelled in English as I brandished my gun, entering the power room. "On the ground! On the ground, now!"

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the people inside pleaded. I could see underneath the veil of smog a bunch of unarmed civilians with flu masks. Their faces were dirty and their hands are pocked with callouses. They all laid down on the floor just as I told them to, except for an unfortunate few.

"Stop!" said one of the insurgent with a gun resting on his victim's temple. "Stop there! We shoot!"

"Don't you know who I am?" I threatened, moving forward so they could see me better. They all stepped back just as I do, casting nervous stares at each other. There were five of them, wearing flu masks just the same. Two were holding a hostage at gunpoint and the other three were pointing their rifles at me.

"I don't h-have anything left in me, 76," Gory warned. "I could shield for a few sh-shots, but that's all I have."

"Don't worry," I quietly reassured my armor. "You wouldn't need to lift a finger."

"We know you," said one of the riflemen, probably the leader of this bunch. I turned to face him. "You are him, Soldier: 76." It sounded more like 'Shoulder Slebny Zix' to me. "You meddle. Now, you meddle with us? Our lives? Our war?!" His voice was hardening with anger. "You have no right to be here. You go away! This is not your war!"

Refocusing on the situation at hand, I continued to threaten them. "Point is, boys, is that I'm already neck deep with all your garbage. You've all made a lot of people angry, dead and both, and that makes me hell of an angrier than you."

I then slowly aimed my rifle at his chest, spurring the others to retraining their sights on me. A normal man wouldn't have much confidence in hip fire even if they're trained with it, but I've been deployed many times that I mastered the art. Plus, the visor helps. It'll be easy to blast them all away, even with human shields, but not while there's a chance I could defuse the situation for a more peaceful solution.

"This place is already occupied with loyalist forces, and I was sent here to negotiate for the remaining civilians." And yes, even if I have to lie about it. "Also, your surrender if you would be so kindly."

"You're lying!" he retorted. "We hear no choppers! We hear no tanks!"

I waved at the room. "With all the smoke clogging your mind and the humming, no wonder you're friggin' deaf. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this operation o' yours have sunk rock bottom."

Murmurs ran around till the leader of the pack whistled them to shut up. "Why should we believe you? Why they send you?"

I shrugged. "Need the cash. You guys alive are worth a lot more than dead. Although…" I slowly said, "I could also live with the fifty per cent cut. Clock's ticking. There's fair trials and life sentence to go around. Just the matter of deciding."

The leader called one of his friends and huddled in a corner. While the others kept their sights at me, some of them getting tired of carrying a rifle, those two were talking in a heated discussion. Altercating rather animatedly. Their speech was too fast for me to follow, but at least they're considering my offer.

"Are you certain of this surrender?" His gun is pointing to the ground, which means the ploy succeeded.

"Depends if these people lives." I indicated at the civilians. "No one's dead yet, so that's a start."

They looked at each other and came back at me. "What do we do?"

I sighed inwardly, relieved. "Let go of the civvies." They did, letting them down on the floor, shocked to be alive. "Drop the guns, slowly, and then kick them to that corner there." They were reluctant at first, but they did as they were told. Others, with more feelings. "Go face that wall with your arms forward and touching it. I want to see them high." I scanned for the people on the floor. "Any of you know how to shoot?"

A hand was slowly raised. "I have NSTP."

"Get a piece and hold them off for me. Who's in charge in maintaining this damn thing?"

"Me," said one of the guys who was recently held hostage. "It was my job to back then."

I motioned him to stand up. "Walk with me." After a distance away, I then asked. "Where's the power hatch?"

"Uh, right over there?" he pointed confusingly and I followed his finger. "But what about the vents? They thought it was funny for them to clog the airways with trash bags. They said it was to deny the enemy an escape, but all it did was blowing up the ventilation system with the excess pressure. Now, all the exhaust is trapped here, and I can't fix it without heavy tools."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Say more words." Finding the hatch, I opened it up to find the power line. "If they try to move," I told the new recruit, "shoot a warning shot first." He nodded nervously.

The engineer is growing more and more frustrated at me as I tried to pull line. "What are you doing? This place is going to blow up if the heat goes out of control unless we turn everything off. And I don't know if my boss would like it if I shut the generators down. Eh, if he's alive, that is."

"Oh, it'll be fine." I then tapped my chest. "You think this will be enough, Gory?" I asked silently after successfully yanking the power line out, making a fountain of sparks. Everybody stepped back as if I was a mad man.

"It didn't s-said anything in the m-manual, but hey, why not? If you b-believe, I'll believe."

"Glad we're on the same page then." I then jammed the sparking tube directly to my chest and I could feel the violent buzzing coursing through. Good thing most of my clothes are insulated because I'd be fried right about now.

While all of this is going on, the lights in the room began to flicker until some of them were now popping from the outage. The people around me wouldn't dare come near me while I'm plugged into thousands of volts of electricity. Instead, they all screamed and ran away. Green lights flashed sporadically around me, spraying my surrounding with plasmatic dust. It all seems surreal up until everything turned black all of a sudden, terrorizing my roommates.

At least I accomplished two tasks at once. "How much power did we charged?" I asked as I dropped the power line.

"Two per cent." Well, at least one thing gone right. "Sorry I couldn't draw more power. The current was just too low, so I tried to speed the process up."

"We'll just ask Torbjorn for the charger then." At gunpoint, even. "Come on. We better get back to Mercy, stat."

I left the occupants where they are as they fumble blindly outside, coughing unhealthily. They'll be too dejected from the real fight to offer any real contribution to it anyway. Halfway through the underground parking spaces, I heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire from above.

Then I mumbled with horror, "Mercy." Doubling my efforts, tripling even, I sprinted up the stairs before stopping out near the main entrance. I hid behind a trashcan as I saw a few stragglers limping inside. They were partly wounded, partly shocked, and partly cowering. Leaning to the side, I could see why. It was a pure bloodbath outside.

The AFHL insurgents formed a defensive line outside, using the outlying cars as barricades. Their HMGs (Heavy Machine Guns) were firing non-stop at whatever they're trying to face, and by judging the abundance of missiles that were hurled into their positions, I could understand their panic. I ignored this fight and pulled my leg up another level without gathering too much attention.

Just as I was going to climb another, I stopped when I heard someone said, '76'. They couldn't have blurted that two-digit number from anywhere, so lingered longer until I found running form, waving at me. I trained my gun on him, deciding whether I listen to him or just leave holes and focus on getting to Mercy. But then, I noticed the odd way he ran. As if it's… perfect-like.

"Wait, don't shoot!" he shouted, and I could see him wearing a standard AFHL outfit and carrying an assault rifle. "It's me! Tequila!"

"The heck are you doing here?" I asked, coming down to meet him, turning left and right while on the way just to be sure we're alone.

"We were preparing to lead an assault to this place until someone shut the powe-" I stabbed the asshole with my combat knife. It is now safely imbedded into his neosteel chest. Pink artificial blood leaking out. "You happy now?"

I bore my rifle at him. "I'm _this_ close on blasting you into car parts, you know that?"

He raised his arms, his face unchanging. "I understand how you feel."

"You left me to die!" I jabbed the rifle's muzzle at the protruding knife.

"And you have every right to be angry. We only thought you would be reasonable enough to surrender your equipment and lead you to a more peaceful life once you are disarmed."

"That justifies you trying to kill me?! As an alternative?!" I could feel my trigger finger twitching. "You best give me something worthwhile if you want to see the light of day again."

"I don't believe this is the time for that," he calmly said as an explosion the lower levels. "As you may have heard, my brethren are slowly closing in."

I relaxed my shoulders. "Let them. I could use a bit more target practice."

His face turned serious. "The Konglomerate does not intend to fight you anymore. Granted that some of our faction seceded from us, no Omnic out there would do you both no harm. We are allies."

"Not from my perspective it ain't. You boys have given me a good idea what your organization is, and I'm not letting that slide."

"We apologize sincerely for our actions. You two are considered a friend of the Konglomerate. What more could you ask for?"

I held up my palm. "Give me the stats of your troop numbers, weapons capabilities, sub-networks and the locations of all your bases. And that's just the start." I knew the Konglomerate would just try to control me in the near future. Once they start giving me money, supplies and allies, once I get cozy with them, what else do I get? A favor, a request to further their agendas, whether good or bad. I'm just a big investment to them, and that's not happening.

On the flip side though, maybe _do_ justify their actions. That they're serious on establishing an Omnic paradise and establish a new found peace in the world. Maybe it's just me not trusting the Omnics, that it's clouding my views of them. And yet… I couldn't shake the feeling that they're doing more than just protecting Omnic rights. I have a little idea what lies beneath their chrome surfaces, and if they try to explain it, they'll just color an orangey sunset over it.

His face then turned into anger. "We desire to help you, then you offer us destruction?! We let you live!"

"And I should be grateful for that? Letting me live? I tell you what, that was a big mistake. You made a _very_ dangerous enemy the minute you let me go, and I'm drawing the line on whether you should get in my way or not." The building shook again, and the gunfire is more apparent.

Tequila stepped forward, yanking my knife out and threw it down on the floor, blade first. "What you are saying is irrevocably foolish, even by human standards. We are not as soft as the daily thugs you childishly play with. Do not tempt us."

"What's the matter? I'm just returning the sentiment you morons tried to impose on me. Now, wanna hand the info over, or do I have to take your disk drive with me?" I then picked up the knife. "I promise to be gentle."

Looking at both my blade and my gun, his clockwork brain started realizing I wasn't kidding around. That I'm seriously going to kill him, in the middle of a damn battle, for the apparent reason is that I hated him. He then finally aimed its assault rifle at me, even though he knew I have a shield on. "I demand a truce. A ceasefire."

"I demand retribution." I stepped forward. He stepped back.

"You are surrounded. There is no escape."

"My shield battery has a fraction left inside of it, but I can pretty much punch my way through and take a lot of you down with me. Wanna get down and dirty or not?"

He was about to say more, but something caught his attention, shifting his barrel away from me. I took this chance to stab his firing wrist and twisted his gun away. I then grabbed Tequila by the neck and held him in a chokehold, all the while pointing my rifle at where he was looking last, keeping Tequila as a shield.

"76?" Mercy called as she walked down the stairs. She relaxed her pistol grip once she saw me. "You can let go of him now. I think we're done here."

"What?" And then I realized she must've thought the guy I'm holding isn't an Omnic. And the night black hallways helped hiding his pink blood. But then… "What about their center of command?" I dropped my firing arm but kept my captive close.

"A missile struck the booth while you're away. I'm certain everybody's flat lined." Her eyes hesitated for a sec. "What are we going to do about the hostages upstairs?"

Sighing, I carefully formed my lines inside my head. I then whispered it to Tequila's ear/receptor. "You want a ceasefire, right?"

"What changed your mind," he challenged.

"There are fifty-two civilians, I counted, right around the corner. If you give them all medical treatment and evacuate them safely, all fifty-two of them, I'll give you and your circle jerk buddies four months. I need the news saying they're saved, capisce? If you find more, another civilian, or an AFHL freak alive in this building, I'll give you a day for each of them if you give them same treatment."

We stood there in silence, listening to the gunfire. He nodded. Shoving him down to the floor, I hollered Mercy to follow me, and we both made it the main entrance. Dozens of Omnics are now rounding up the few extremists, and when they saw us coming down, they immediately aimed at us. And as fast as they did, they dropped their sights and let us through.

"That was weird," Angela said as we strolled outside There were more armed box-headed Omnics running pass us. "What outfit were they?" We saw a truck from inside the building smashing through a wall, peppering the unpowered lamps and cars with concrete. Behind it was a convoy of the technical and vans that we saw a while ago. They were trying to escape while they have the manpower. The Omnics tried to stop them, but only managed to disable a single truck with their rockets.

"That's another chapter I'm about to elaborate later," I said after they all left. That won't be the last that we'll see them. I then shoved my hand into my pocket. "Let's hop back to the car. I must've left the keys inside."

+1+ It's reported to be expensive and life threatening at the same time.

+2+ Even though Dr. Ziegler's job is far from sedentary, her log shows that she rarely left the medical tent ever since the first time she sets foot there. Other than that, it may be due to the fact there's a heavy air pollution on their area, and Soldier: 76 is the only one with a built-on filter.

+3+ It's unique architectural design was indeed profound internationally, especially when it hosted the Olympics some decades ago.

+4+ A well placed explosive shell or consecutive hits from a .50 cal MG could still penetrate that vehicle easily despite on whatever protection they impose it on. The protection is purely psychological, perhaps. Such as wearing a Kevlar vest would make the wearer think they are bulletproof (albeit anything larger than pistol shells would still be a danger to the wearer), fusing these vans with metal sheets would bear the same effect to the passengers.

+5+ According to the last feeds, they did. Admittedly, they missed a few times before they finally scuttled.

+6+ Away from the eyes of the public, the stadium's inner workings were engineered unsymmetrically and confusing in order to prevent guerillas from occupying the place easily and deter them of progress by them traversing the convoluted pathways alone, which is a common security strategy used by malls, radio/TV stations and few key government buildings throughout history.

* * *

"I… I think I got it!" I said as we drove to where the city is most violent. The explosions from the artillery was now more apparent than ever, but at least we're out of range from their jamming devices. "Torbjorn?" I called through my visor's communique after successfully reaching his number. "Torbjorn can you read me?"

There was static for a moment, until a familiar accented voice came through. "76, ye two-faced imbecile! You have a lot of nerve fer showing up!"

"I have Mercy with me, if that's of any consolidation."

"How did—pass the phone to her."

I took off my visor and asked Angela to wear it. The auto-fit servos kicked in and was now under a private conversation. I parked the car beside a ruined building before we decide which way we should go. Angela was taking her sweet time though. She brought her hand to the side of the visor and I thought it was over, but she was still using it for another minute or so. Did I changed my password?

"The rendezvous point is sent to your map," she said as she gave my visor back to me. "There are enemies along the way, but it's light enough to ignore them, he said."

"Yeah, it'll be another fifteen minutes from what I'm seeing," I said after wearing the device back. As I was about to switch my key to ignition, I noticed that Angela looked a little shaken. "Something wrong?"

"What? No, I just had a little chat with your… friend of yours." She rubbed the back of her head.

I raised my eyebrow. "What did you two talk about?" I asked to both of them.

Angela huffed crossing her arms and said, "Just tell her I'm not afraid of her."

"It's nothing, 76," Gory cheerfully reassured me. "I was just telling her the facts."

"Care to elaborate?" I asked as I drove the car back to the road.

"Oh, no. You have to ask the good doctor for her opinion."

"Something tells me that I don't want to pry on that subject." And then we were off. The breeze from my new window was ruffling our hairs, all the while as a good refreshment. This might be the last time we might experience this kind of calm. Even Angela is slightly less strained than before, but she looked angrier than normal.

I stopped the car when I saw a group scattered in the street beyond, wearing civilian clothing and some carrying pre-Crisis arms. AFHL, I gathered after I saw the yellow armbands. They were setting up a makeshift triage across the block. These folk must be the stragglers Torbjorn warned about. They didn't pose any threat, and I don't want to risk it anyway.

"Wait!" Mercy shouted minutes after, pointing at a broken down building. "There's someone over there."

"Who?" And then I realized what she's saying. "Mercy, we don't have time picking up hitchhikers. They'll be fi—hey!"

She suddenly opened her door and jumped right out. As soon as I hit the brakes, she opened her wings and flew towards the building's broken doors. Grunting, I positioned the car in front of the café, Kofi Aromo, it read, so I could at least establish a quick barricade if the AFHL decides to move out on us.

I wore my Infiltrator Mask, donning the face of Jason Marsh again, and took off my jacket, tying it on my waist. Turning the engines off, I left my HPR inside the trunk. I then entered the café and was met with a half a dozen muzzles pointing at my face. "He's here to help," Mercy notified from the back as she was injecting a wounded soldier. "Let him in."

"But we don't know who he is," nervously said the guy pointing a gun at me. I just noticed that every one of them are wearing the Numbani 1st colors. It's apparent when I saw their greenness in their eyes. "He might be AFHL. Look at this!" He was yanking my armor, and I slapped his hand away.

"I said let him in!" she screamed and they did as they were told. Disgruntled, they moved out of my way.

"I'm watching you," he warned. And they all dispersed.

Angela, her wings pulled back, took a med kit from her belt and was now administering painkillers to a militiaman who lost his leg from the knee down. I wondered why they let her be the medic of this squad, but then again, she _is_ quite famous. There are a lot more wounded and injured lying on the floor, both in service and not. Some severe, but mostly minor. I could hear more battle-incapables upstairs with all their moaning, and that just means one thing.

"What are you doing?" I said as she moved on to the next one, beaming a small flashlight to the new patient's eye with a flashlight. He had a massive head injury based on how bloody his bandages on his head were.

"I am," she began, and stopped to raise his body so he could lay down sideways, "trying to do my job. She then looked at me with eyes somber. "I could make a difference here, so please… let me do this." And then she went back to work.

Crap. What about the part that there's more doctors and nurses. I looked at the place, and noticed the lack of it, except the one in front of me. I sighed in frustration. "There's got to be twenty frakkers in this floor alone. You're not planning to nurse them all, are you?"

"I do what I must." She moved to the next.

"Then just beam them up and let's get out of here +1+." I'm getting more frustrated. "You were the one complaining about keeping the old geezer waiting."

"Now's not the time," she growled at me, and I just threw my arms up in frustration, went outside, took cover at the car and examined my surroundings.

I then dialed Torbjorn's phone. "Torbjorn, we got a problem. We can't get to you in time." After explaining our current situation, he then decided he would come to us. He's also bringing some extra men and equipment, plus a medevac to get the wounded out. "That sounds like a bad idea. There's too little cover for us and the AFHL could easily flank us. Can't you just extract us all at once?"

"No can do. Hostiles has been sending another wave this time, and I don't think you can make it without getting peppered unless ye come back here right now."

"So you snuggling with us makes everything better?"

"If yer sure on the position you are in entered, I think I can use it to our advantage. I have a plan."

"You?"

"Just trust me! I may not be a good strategist, but I have the perfect defense." His voice was straight and sure. "Listen to me on this."

Under the cold dark night, I was quite impressed. This tactic of his might rival even of his own inventions, and this is coming from a guy who knows strategy as easy as breathing. Although, we do need those inventions in order for this stratagem to work.

After I ended the call, I examined my AO one more time. If this café is to be our center of operations, we have to face reality that we're vulnerable by both sides. To the left of me, I think I recognized the way leading towards the Unity Plaza, and further that I believe would be the Museum Station. Torbjorn would meet us beyond that, and it's where most of the fighting is concentrating on. On my right, just across the road is the Adawe International Terminal, and the rest of the AFHL insurgents would surely be coming from that direction.

This place is indefensible save for a few cars, I knew, but a great advantage to the war if Torbjorn could pull it off. The problem now would be on how to coerce the militia to do as I say, or at least make them act as we need them to be. For all they knew, I'm just another civilian who've been caught up by the war, meaning that I have no say on how to tell them what's right.

Just at the edge of my eye, I saw something that might give me the opportunity, and I have to do this quick or else we'll be all dead.

"I see the AFHL!" I screamed as I ran into the building. "They're pouring from the terminal!"

At this point, they were all arguing and pointing fingers at each other. It seems like they don't have any superiors to follow. Either he's gone missing, can't be contacted or he's plain dead. They had to pick a leader quick because this unit can't fall from inaction. Finally, after a much-needed pleading, one of them decided to take the burden and led all the able men out.

"Stay low for a while, Mercy," I told her as I picked up a rifle and a bandolier of ammo from one of the injured, who was too unconscious for him to care. "It's going to get loud."

"They're here already?" she asked, surprised.

"About six or seven of 'em." I strapped the bandolier across my chess. "We could overwhelm them now, but they'll be bringing friends next."

"Hold on," she said, untying her belt. She looked less stressed now, more focused. "Take this."

"What is this?" I indicated at the yellow cylinders attached on the leather.

"It's a Biotic Emitter. It uses the same technology as my staff, only more widespread. It's something I, uh, I was going to give it to you when this whole thing is over, as a sign of apology, of course. But now…"

"I appreciate it," I said as I strapped it in. "Stay safe."

"You too," she must've said as I went upstairs.

Going up to the second floor, I brought a coffee table along with me; doubt it would stop a bullet. Regardless, it could always slow a bullet down enough for my shield to absorb the rest of the impact, and I'm counting on that two to three per cent.

I was now on the perfect vantage point overseeing the entire road, and we're already being fired upon. Downrange, the militia, all twenty of them, successfully dulled the AFHL's assault. Over four hostiles were neutralized while the other three retreated to the terminal building. Cheering can be heard, but I knew it was only the beginning. I checked my equipment.

The rifle that I'm wielding is an outdated AK variant. I think this stuff was bagged and shipped cheap when the Omnic Crisis started due to the fact that it fails to penetrate Omnic hull. It's a bunch of hand-me-downs cycled here in the Numbani Militia, but the last owner maintained it well, it seems. Loading a mag, I reached into my pocket for my Tactical Visor

"You!" the same guy who stopped me shouted as he ran towards me with an entourage. "Yes, you. What are you doing here? And where did you get that gun?"

I left my visor as it is and coughed. "I'm trying to help."

"We will take care of the fighting. You have no training."

"Yes, I do." I lifted my shirtsleeve. "I'm ex-Overwatch." I let them see my tattoo with the black and gold logo on it.

He spat. "Don't try to be funny. Just give us the gun and follow us down."

Crap. Looks like I can't fool these fools. I have to think something else.

They didn't gave me time to think because the AFHL came back with the numbers. I ducked down on my coffee table, even though they didn't see me yet, but my friends a while ago scrambled to get inside, which gave me time. Huffing, I turned the safeties off and started shooting.

When I meant that they came back with numbers, it might be an understatement. Almost thirty of them charged out of the building and took cover the nearest car. A slow few never made it, but that didn't deter them. I focused on shooting on those who are the biggest threat with single-shot fires, such as the guys carrying LMGs and RPGs. It was pretty easy considering that they're practically across the road, but the militia seems to have a hard time adjusting their sights. There are also shooters coming from deep inside the terminal building to provide covering fire, and unfortunately, I can't see them from this angle. I'll have to leave it to the people downrange hold them off.

Thick dirty smoke clogged my nostrils, muzzle flares left little green blobs on my eyes, intensified by the dark background. And the sound of the steady but loud staccato of rifle fire and the deafening whump of the grenades rang in my ear. But with my bio-enhanced hyper-oxygenation that's filtering my lungs, night vision and depth perception from my eyes, I could ignore most of those irritants and be combat ready as long as there's ammo in my clip.

The militia down took their time during the pause to set up a nice barricade using the outlying cars (with their windows broken mandatorily.) They haven't touched my own ride, and it might be because they figured it's in a good spot as it is. Which also meant my big guns in the trunk is still undiscovered.

Laying down suppressing fire as soon as the insurgents popped out, they relied on their under-barrel grenade launchers to finish off to finish them off when the enemy stayed on one spot for too long, although they were using them liberally for my liking. They're just going to run out of explosives by the time the real fighting starts. But hey, it's a sure kill.

"Grrh!" I grunted as the AFHL finally noticed me. I was surprised when the bullets started spraying on my general directions. They were either hitting too high or too low since my shields haven't activated yet, so I calmed down a bit. A few deep breaths later, I welled up the courage to rise from my cover and do my job again. I don't know who's down there is shooting at me, but it's the big threats that I'm more worried about rather than some rifleman.

Soon enough, they withdrew towards the terminal building. The heavy staccato of the bullets slowed down to a couple of precise shots. While the AFHL were busy licking their wounds, the people inside the building continued firing in case the militia would follow them, which they won't because they have problems themselves. I could see two of them down there carrying the wounded inside the café.

"You should really leave," said the same militiaman from before at the time he returned. He and a couple of guys were carrying a huge sofa and propping it up at the railings.

"I think I got a couple of kills on my belt."

"Which is yours?" They all finished hunkering up their makeshift defense. "Just go back into the building and let us deal with this. It will make us breathe easier. And give me the damn gun."

Grunting, I conceded to his demands, but I kept the magazines in case I need to use them when the time comes. I have to think of a way to fight without them pulling me off the field.

It didn't take two steps inside until I found Angela in the same floor too. She was working with the wounded with ample dexterity. "What's the situation outside?" she asked as soon as she saw me.

"It could've gone worse. Just a forward element thinking we're easy picking. Their vanguard would be closing in next, and this time with a plan in mind."

She wiped the blood from her hand with a pail of warm water. "Have you talked to Torjorn?" I told her the idea of his plan, and then she protested. "I can't do that. What if there's more wounded around?"

"We'll have combat medics when the convoy arrives. It's safer if you just evacuate along with the casualties."

Her eyes turned grave. "I'm a combat medic as well. I've been trained and tried for dozens of deployments."

"I'll breathe easier if you're not in harm's way."

"And you taking the bullet makes it easier for me?"

"Don't-"

"No." She shook her head. "If these people would be willing to sacrifice for this city, shouldn't I be the one more qualified on taking the risk?"

I massaged my temples. "That's not-" Heavy gunfire. Heavier than before. "Quick." I held out my hand. "Give me your gun." She won't need it as long there is more militia around.

"What are you going to do?" she asked as she handed her Caduceus Blaster and her battery packs to me.

"If they can learn their mistakes, and they will, I have a germ of an idea where they're going to strike next."

It was easy to sneak out of the café when they're all busy fighting. I did a quick turn around to see a technical barreling in the middle of the road, its MG blaring heavily. A couple of frag grenades quickly took it out, so there's no worry about that other than two dozen more of infantry.

I sprinted towards the Unity Plaza, and by the time I reached the bronze statue holding a spear, my fear was realized. About five AFHL insurgents was marching towards the back of the militia lines, but they haven't found me yet. Thankfully, this blaster that I'm wielding have, in theory, infinite ammunition as long as I avoid overheating it. And I got some spare battery packs to cycle between if need be.

I'm relying on this statue to take the brunt of the damage for me. I did a little shifting from my cover until I can lean out from the statue's foundation. They were running in the open, thinking that they're all safe from this side. I'm going to give them a wakeup call.

Plasma projectiles was released from my blaster, catching two of them on the chest. I nipped a third one on the leg and let him stay there as he screamed for help. The last two scattered to save what's left of their squad. When they grew the balls to face me, they began shooting in a steady and precise pace, leaving me to take cover myself.

As we continued our shootout, I heard the unmistakable screeching of rubber tires. They've called reinforcements, and it won't take long for them to kill me before I run out of ammo. Letting the blaster hiss as it released heat, I took my visor and called for Torbjorn.

"Prawn to Cyclops," I called out. "What's your ETA?"

"Ten, tops, Prawn," he answered. "Can ye hold the position?"

By then, a van came into my view and disembarked fifteen men and women. I stood up to fire twenty more shots before crouching. "Negative! We've got tangos on both flanks. Requesting for fire support, over?"

"Copy that," he said, which lifted off a ton of burden from my shoulders. "Mortar fire missions are on the go. Provide coordinates, over." I told him to fire at the Unity Plaza and the Adawe International Terminal. "Negative on last coordinates. ROE (Return of Equity) demands to avoid destroying as much public property as possible."

"And let the AFHL burn the rest of the city for us?!" I almost screamed, but thankfully, I stopped myself. "Affirm. Just-" Lead whizzed by me. "Just don't miss."

"Roger. Mortar firing for effect, out."

Breathing deeply, I bobbed up of my cover and fired as fast as I can. I caught three men trying to lob grenades at me, and they paid the price for not setting up suppressing fire on my position. The grenades exploded safely behind them. Saw one of the men trying to get the wounded out, and I took him out as well. There's no point in being complacent. Not on my watch.

And then I heard angels singing from above. Whistling music came louder and louder, prompting my opponents to panic and run away. Most didn't make it. High explosives cratered the area in front of me, turning those caught in the blast into ground meat. The van was trying to drive out too, but the shrapnel popped its tire out, and finally it was blown to a burning heap.

Those who could run ran. Those who could walk walked. Many were writhing in pain on the concrete floor, their limbs dismembered or their guts spilling out. And the dead, they lay still as if they were sleeping. I whooped out in joy as the flanking maneuver was neutralized.

Once I came back to the café, it was about to get worse. The insurgents are now overpowering the militia with their numbers and their firepower. Both sides have casualties and the cars they used as cover are now sweltering in flames. I worked too hard for this to end now, so I sprinted down there as fast as I can.

I first approached a group of wounded behind an overturned car. "Get in here and heal up!" I told them as I planted a Biotic Emitter on the ground. Yellow light streamed out, glowing nanobots were dancing around us. The wounded screamed in pain as the bots worked their magic. It's slow, but working.

There's a militiaman who has his arms covering his head and sobbing, and he kept shouting, "Stop! Please, stop!" over and over again.

I did him a favor, took his rifle, and told him to hide inside the café. He nodded. As he ran away, I continued his fight and fired in three-round bursts, catching them in surprise when they realized they're steadily dwindling down. The wounded, now fully healed, stood up and resumed shooting, adding up our firepower.

My reflexes were superb, my aim is true, and my body count is rising. I noticed a militiaman beside me patting his pouches for a magazine that isn't there anymore, so I pulled one out and shouted over the deafening noise, "Here! Make it count!" He grabbed it and began firing carefully this time.

From this position, I can finally see the enemy from deep inside the terminal, operating portable machineguns and laying down suppressing fire on us. I nudged my way for a better position and jumped rose from my cover when he's currently reloading. Firing a shot, I caught him in the noggin. I did the same for the other two, and their replacements. That seemed to scare the hell out of them because the rest of them started routing.

All of a sudden, the front wall of the terminal building blew up in seams. A BMP-4 (Boevaya Mashina Pehoty, literally stands for Infantry Fighting Vehicle) appeared! It's100mm cannon was steaming from firing recently, and its 7.62mm MGs started peppering our sections.

A militiaman beside me was caught on the shoulder, and another had his head whipped from a shot that went straight into his temple. Everybody got the message and ducked, praying for dear life. There was no way I could fight that thing now, so I reached for my visor to call Torbjorn so I could make him reconsider bombing at the station since the AFHL damaged it first. And to hell if they see me doing the act. I'm still disguised any way.

It seems like I didn't need to do that for the matter. Large caliber rounds staggered the BMP, leaving molten dents on its hull. I turned around to see where that fire is coming from, and my heart leapt as I saw Tsahv Hover Tank, firing repeated bursts from its HMGs. I haven't seen a grav-tank for a long time +2+. The BMP fired a hull mounted ATGM (Anti-Tank Guided Missile), but the Tsahv's CWWS (Close Combat Weapon Systems) activated, spraying small round fire at the missile before it hits. It detonated prematurely and some of the militia was caught in the explosion.

The BMP tried back up, but it appears to be stuck when a large debris is blocking its path. The tank continued firing large rounds on the hull, adding up the damage. To finish it off, the Tsahv fired its 120mm cannon, temporarily blinding us, and turning the IFV into a ball of fire.

The militia cheered as the remaining AFHL ran away. They were now flocking the tank, and I was about to join them to thank the tank pilot, but I stopped myself when I saw the logo on its side. Helix Security International. That's a name I'd rather avoid. Troops from the regular army came from behind the tank, assumed their positions in front of the café and were now carrying the dead, and wounded off.

"Mr. Marsh?" I heard Torbjorn's voice not far. I turned around to see his craggy face as he walked towards me, with a grin even.

"It's good to—Ooof!" The midget just punched me at my gonads! I was now on the ground, writhing in pain.

"Now that we're even, get Mercy fer me." He has his hands on his hips. "It's time fer a tactical assessment."

+1+ That is actually easier said than done. Even though the Caduceus Staff is revolutionary in this century, normal men and women would have a hard time tolerating its healing process. It is tested to be safe, but having millions of nanobots coursing through your veins is a very painful experience, especially if it's their first time, which is why Dr. Ziegler prefers to do it the old fashion way. 76 hasn't complained much about it because he has grown inured for the past hundreds of times Mercy healed him. And let us not forget of his enhanced state.

+2+ The designs of making grav-tanks were controversial in its first inception. The problem is due to its energy consumption. A traditional tank itself is hardly light because it needs to maintain resistance towards modern anti-tank hardware. To keep all that tons of steel has made the operation time quite low, even with repeated recharges. Speaking of protection, the hover mechanics of the machine made it vulnerable at the underside. A shaped charge would easily destabilize the null-grav projectors, despite the tank hovering a little over two feet. With all these technical difficulties, the grav-tank is hard to incorporate in the mainstream military arsenal, and those who does are only interested in hovering artillery, which at least can be safe from enemies with distance while maintaining the advantage of mobility, rather than having a big gun that could potentially be immobilized in the front line.


	9. Chapter 9

I heaved the stretcher inside the Humvee parked in the Unity Plaza and closed the door. Sighing, I turned around to face Mercy behind me, who's wiping off her hands with a blood red napkin as she watched the armored car. "Last chance, Angela!" I shouted as the vehicle's passengers grabbed their seats.

She shook her head. "Why are you so damn keen on getting rid of me?"

I shrugged. "Just checking." I then slapped the hood and the CASEVAC (Casualty Evacuation). The convoy then drove off, leaving the rest of us behind to fend for ourselves.

There was a commotion right behind me. I turned around to see the temporary leader of the militia platoon was arguing heatedly at an actual man with authority. I figured that they saw their wounded getting off the battlefield, so the surviving militia thought it was about their turn to leave also. Too bad though, because we're going to need them, and that means their request is a no go.

A punch to the militia leader's face ended the conversation as they scrambled to pick him up and leave. Some looked glum on the prospect of getting surrounded by insurgents with no retreat. Others were straight up terrified, and I could tell with their faces. I scanned around on the group to see if I could find the guy who broke down earlier in the fight, but I figured he'd been shipped off because he had battle fatigue. Lucky bastard.

Me and Mercy went inside the Stryker just before the first bullets starts flying all over again. The AFHL are renewing their offensive again, but with a contingent of fresh troops, a couple of LAVs (Light Attack Vehicles) and a grav-tank to boot, I wouldn't worry too much about it.

When the hatch closed behind me, the whole world turned silent and only the rumbling engine can be heard inside the dim-lit compartment. Torbjorn, sitting at the far end of the vehicle, was waving us to come closer, like a host of a party in his private booth in a bar. I sat at the bench and got right back up to get an empty bullet casing off my ass. Mercy was right across me, getting cosy with the ammo boxes. There's no comfort, according to her facial expression.

What lay between us is the same Tactical Operations Interface that we used back in the fort near Prosperity Falls. It made the already limited space more limited, but I'm more than thrilled to see the siege's live feed, which gave me a grasp on the situation at hand, though the situation looks grim for us.

Torbjorn then presents me with a thick plug, and I recognized it being the Omnic Armor's charger. At least Gory would have something to chew on while we wait. After sticking it in my sides, he then looks at us with eager, but grim, eyes. "Shall we?" I waved him to continue, and so he began swiping the table surface.

At the LCD, a gridded map was shown, revealing the city of Numbani and beyond. Two solid lines at the east of the city, both curved and enclosing a clump of gray circles. Against them at the east, the outskirts of Numbani, are small red lines, which were growing by the minute. At the west, in the inner part of the city are peppered with pink dots, slowly clumping up into a one big mob.

"As ye can see," Torbjorn continued, his brows bunched in annoyance as he waved the map, "we're earlobe deep in sweet, _sweet_ , skittles."

I broke out a humorless grin with my disguised face. "What else is new?"

"What we see is what we get. Here." He then pointed at the green lines. "Our main defensive line. Most of these dicks are shore leavers and militiamen." Must be the Numbani Task Force, along with the Numbani 1st Militia Regiment, probably the Numbani Police Department, and a couple of mercenary contingents if I predict it well. "They've been at it all night. You can't believe the losses we faced out there." He then showed us the numbers at the corner of the screen, and it looks staggering all right. "And that's just the initial count. We don't even know how many wounded, MIA (Missing in Action) or deserters are."

"What about the UN?" Mercy asked as she dabbed her hands with rubbing alcohol to get rid of the crust of blood stuck on her short fingernails.

He handed her a box of tissues, shaking his head. "No UN this time. They're already hamstrung with the foreign policies. Adding it up with the recent casualty rates, it's an international mess." His mouth formed a sneer. "Damn cowards, all of them," he muttered.

I just realized by now why he isn't wearing his UN bonnet. "So… you quit?"

He waved me off. "Told them I'm having an early retirement." He then slammed the table with both his fists. "Bottom line, we can't count on them. It would make our lives easier if they could evac these civvies," he pointed at the grey spots, "but it appears that it's just too much to ask."

"Those are civilians?" Angela asked with concern. "If… If the scales on this map are true… they're in artillery range!"

"And it looks like they're open ground too," I commented as I recognized the savannah map background. "Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all." I then faced Torbjorn. "The AFHL wouldn't."

He sighed. "Done and done. Those thugs don't care who they hit. As long they're guns kill, they're satisfied from what I gather."

A pause settled in, and then I threw up my arms. "Great. Nothing we could do about that. Enemy strength?"

He pointed at the small red lines. "Three half regiments and one whole." I seethed through my teeth. That's about three thousand strong at the very least +1+. I expect those understrength regiments are a bunch of veteranized, hardened cocksuckers. Torbjorn saw the expression on my face as I thought about it. "Oh, it gets better. There's a tank division supporting its flanks. Fresh men are pouring in from the country side by platoons, and they're steadily pushing their advantage."

"But what happened to the frontline?" Mercy asked.

"Distracted," he answered a matter-of-factly. "They have the numbers to split their forces to handle both our main force and siege Numbani at the same time. But hey, at least they're not our problem. _Ours_ is here." He waved at the pink cloud, the AFHL sympathizers, at the west. "They're an undisciplined mess, but numbers are on their side. All armed to the teeth, and it's a friggin' miracle we held them this long. Somehow, they're coming on our lines by small mobs, too little to form a battle line." A small pink dot on the TOI came close to the green lines, and was subsequently quashed a few seconds after. I smiled inwardly. We just brought a few more hours for this city, even if I'm not the one who killed the commanders.

"I can't believe this," she muttered. I could see Angela squeezing her knees. "Thousands of lives. All for a city?"

I rested my chin on my knuckle, contemplating intently. "Let's think about. If we lose and they win, they'll have full control of the city, their citizens, and possibly this nation. They've shown to the world that Omnics and humans can't live together, not without killing each other." I mumbled, "All those years making this peace… gone."

"But they'll eventually have losses," Angela reasoned out. "An injured man needs at least six months to recover from a bullet wound, half with nano-meds +2+. You can't expect these armed boys to replace their numbers. That's just asking too much, especially if they're going to face the African Union." She then faced Torbjorn. "They are coming… right?"

He nodded. "They upped their schedule a couple of days early. We're talking about airborne troopers, choppers and satellite support." He then faced me. "But that's not going to be enough, is it?"

Regretfully, I shook my head. "It never was that simple. For all we know, the AFHL's going to round up the population once the dust settled and do public executions. Whatever happens after they occupy Numbani, even if the African Union could purge them all, we all know it's going to be one of the worst things that has ever happened in Africa ever since the Crisis." I crossed my arms. "Worst we'll ever face." A silence settled in. "That is, if we live long enough to see it."

"Then let's look at the brighter side," Torbjorn said, cracking his knuckles. "We have a fighting chance." He then focused the camera at inside the pink cloud. A little blue oblong is smack-dab inside the cloud. It was us, cut off from the rest of the main military forces and surrounded by insurgents, who's diverting their attention here like moths to a flame. Now that I realize it, this whole map almost looks like an eye shedding a tear.

"I hope this gamble pays off," Mercy said, wiping her forehead with a tissue.

The dwarf just smiled and moved his hand to his ear. "All set?" A pause, and he nodded in approval. "Fire when ready." He then enlarged this little speck of blue, revealing the AO in detail. He looked into his watch, and I could barely grabbed my seat before the first shells started dropping.

The explosions were dozens of blocks away, but the fact that the Stryker shook as if it's experiencing mechanized epilepsy makes me doubt the distance. Bullet casings and oilcans fell off from the shelves and raining down upon us. Mercy fell too. All the while Torbjorn was laughing his butt off, and when it was over, he just mouthed, 'Voila.'

When Mercy got back to her seat, rubbing her head, we looked back at our TOI. And just like that, the pink formations around the blue oblong were full of holes, fading and retreating back to their nests like the burnt moths they are.

"As ye can see, or feel," Torbjorn began, satisfied with himself, "we're pretty much impregnable."

"That was cutting it close," Angela said, wincing as she tried to touch a lump on her head. "You should've fired them earlier."

He shrugged. "Eh, I need them to get closer for maximum effect. The element of surprise comes once, after all. Now…" He looked at us both. "The plan." He snapped his claw excitedly as he panned the map out and to view the pink formations surrounding us. "I've got fifteen 120mm scattered around the sector. Ye passed them, I believe." Me and Mercy nodded. They're an impressive sight, and seeing them in action, at least from a screen, makes them even more impressive. "As demonstrated, we could handle ourselves just fine as long as we have the line of sight. But there's more."

He brought his hand back to his ear again. "Utu-Actual, this is Cyclops. You are authorized to provide fire support for the FOO (Forward Observation Officers) and to over watch. Good hunting, over." A few seconds later, the artillery started firing again, and thankfully, nowhere near us. Back at the TOI, the clumps of pinks started disintegrating as plumes erupted at the map background. It was happening everywhere. "If the AFHL don't act up quick, there would be no revolution to speak about tomorrow. We brought enough trucks to supply us with ammunition for the whole night, if we have to." He snapped his claw in delight.

I then inquired, "There's no need to bring artillery this deep behind the lines. They could pound these positions just as much from outside the city."

He continued to grin. "Oh, that's not all we're doing." At the screen, pink was reforming again, and are now coming at us. "As you can see, now that we've shown our cards, they now realized this thorn on their side was actually a loaded gun. They can't _possibly_ ignore us now."

The good doctor sighed. "We're just one big bait, aren't we?"

"We signed up for this," I told her. "We gave you chance to scram, but now you're damned just like the rest of us."

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes in annoyance. "I know that. I know what we're sacrificing here." And then she looked at me. "But the others… what about them?"

Torbjorn held his hand. "I swear these guys are all volunteers."

She arced her brow. "The militia?"

"It was my idea," I admitted, and she gave me a withering glare. "Don't give me that look. We need a lot of manpower to hold the line. Besides, I only need them to man the MGs and do a little bit of weightlifting." Specifically, to raise barricades, delivering munitions to perimeter platoons, setting Torbjorn's turrets +3+, and be at the beck and call for the arty boys. "Rear-echelon duty. It's grape work until we need them to actuality shoot." And I hope to God that we don't. Not just because they're civilians who has no idea what they're doing other than what they were taught on college, but also because they couldn't shoot for the life of them.

"There's still more problems regarding our position here," I continued prodding, and I'm glad that Angela took the change of subject well. "One, we're pretty much stationary. We could stop any advance they throw at us, but we can't deny we're sitting ducks. Perfect targets for enemy artillery. Second, we can't expect the AFHL to take our hits. They're going to learn the hard way that they have to stop and take cover when the bombs starts dropping. It's going to mitigate their progress, but we won't have as many kills as previously.

"And third, they could always ignore us. I don't know about them, but I'm willing to bet that they'd rather take heavy losses rather than stop everything what they're doing and engage on our little circle first. They know that killing us wouldn't win them the war. They are." I pointed at the green lines.

His smile faltered a bit and took the conversation seriously. "It's not like I haven't thought of that. For the first obstacle, we can handle it. As soon as they fire, I could pinpoint their trajectory for a quick counter barrage, with pinpoint accuracy if I may add."

"They get first shots. There's no stopping that."

"And it won't," he said, accepting the fact. "If they hit us, they hit. As for the second would be what the artillery strikes are for. If it's not to kill, it needs to slow them down. We could live with that. And lastly, there's no way we could remedy that too. If they decide to pass through our shells with both their arms chomped off, it's still a help for the main forces. We'll attract attention, and that's going to be a lot of help. And I didn't forget what we have to do to win." He leaned forward. "Killing a thousand insurgent doesn't win us the war. But killing Doomfist…"

I nodded, finally getting the meat of this meeting. "Then let's have it. Got the countermeasure?"

He then opened up a compartment under the TOI and pulled a briefcase out. I was disappointed at the size, but I got a feeling what it was He opened it and handed it to me. "This?" I asked disbelievingly.

"The Phase Shift Amplifier is still in working condition," Torbjorn explained, looking annoyed. It was his invention after all.

I shifted the PSA's weight on my palm. An extension of my HPR, which is why it's shaped like a crude triangle. It's smooth and gunmetal surface was cool to the touch, although it's a bit weighty. There's a port from the pointy end, which is where I need to attach my HPR to, and the other end have vertical blue lenses.

"That thing?" Mercy inquired. "I wasn't there when Doomfist struck, but I heard that that device hasn't even reached testing phase."

"We _were_ supposed to use it right then and there," I clarified before Torbjorn blew a lid. I just have to mind myself on mentioning the _other_ guy. "Damn. Never thought we've been needing this thing now." I quickly looked at Torbjorn. "Don't worry. I trust that it would work."

"It does," he told me with teeth clenched, lightly snapping his claw.

After asking for the briefcase, I placed it back inside. I'll ask for it later when the time comes. "Okay, we got the damn device," Angela said as I tucked the briefcase away. "Where's your pulse rifle?"

"Back at the car." Or at least, that's where I left it. "I've parked it closer around this Stryker. Just across the street."

We all sat back and listened to the engine. "What now?" she asked.

Torbjorn then tapped the screen a few times, zooming into the blue lines. "We secure the perimeter and keep everyone out. That means we need barricades and makeshift at all the main streets. Teams would resupply the perimeter with batteries and ammunition. Besides that, the biggest priority is to defend the guns. If we lose, let's just say, eight of them, our chances on attracting the head honcho would be nil. We have a good enough radar to start detecting for magnetic anomalies, but the last time we got a read on Doomfist was two hours ago. He's smart to conceal himself, but he can't ignore the sounds of a dying revolution. He'll come. In summary, we hold the line."

I asked the harder question. "How long?"

He rubbed his beard, eyes on the table. "If our ammunition reserves crossed five per cent, we'll use the rest of them to make a hole back to the main lines, leave the extra weight, and make a break fer it." He then looked at us both, meeting our eyes. "Any more questions?" We sat silently. "Good. Mercy, dearie? We have a triage waiting for you back at the museum."

She nodded and got up. "Hold up," I told her as I pulled the Caduceus Blaster out of my belt.

She took it and said, "You boys play safe now, 'kay?"

"No promises," Torbjorn said, giving a small smile.

After the hatch is closed, I then said, "Okay. What do you task me?" He glowered at me. "Oh, come on! You already took your shot on me." I pointed at my crotch. "What more do you want?"

"A proper apology for once. And Mercy's not here to defend you now."

I scoffed. "Fine. I'll say sorry once this is over, but until that time comes…" I tapped the screen in front of me. "We have a battle to win."

+1+ A regiment's size varies through what they're mission and purpose are. You can't expect a full infantry regiment be the same size as an artillery regiment. In average, a regiment could be a thousand to two thousand, and let us not forget about the supporting units such as admin, signals, headquarters and other rear-echelon elements that boosts its normal size. A regiment is most of a time a name or title of itself, an 'administrative family' per se, and so you can't expect a regiment as a whole to be deployed at once. Soldier: 76's estimate would primarily be based on real experience perhaps, because in reality (with a little bit of hindsight), he's actually correct. Before the casualties came rolling in, that is.

+2+ Also, mental damage. Getting shot even once is traumatic enough, and sometimes irrecoverable.

+3+ Torbjorn made the process simpler so that anyone could do it. Although, he has to get near it so he could hard mod the thing.

* * *

The vehicle shook again. This has been happening all the time when the AFHL started returning the favor. Although this time, I turned around to see a crack on the window slit behind me. "It's nothing," I told Torbjorn as I pulled the mic back to my lips.

Torbjorn was grumbling something again as he redirected fire from his side of the TOI. I couldn't hear what he just said, but I'm more focused on the task at hand. "Are you on point?" I asked the platoon leader from the other side of the map. "Right. Group up and breach."

Gory hasn't finished recharging yet, and I need every ounce of power once we go face to face with General Moses. "Say again?" For now, I'm directing operation here in the Stryker with Torbjorn. It's mostly me. The other guy is busy coordinating his artillery and static defenses, so I took a load off his shoulders by commanding strike teams around the AO. With my voice modified to sound like Mr. Lindholm here, if I might add. "Good. Get that MG on the windows and wait for my go." I switched to another channel. "Delta, are you in position, over?"

"Dammit!" Torbjorn screamed all of a sudden, and that only means one thing. Huffing a few times, he then said, "Utu-8 is inoperable."

That's the third artillery piece down for the count. Torbjorn thought we could still repair it, but we never knew how big the damage from the shrapnel earlier. It's only been two hours now, and it looks like we're wearing down from this artillery duel. He would gladly go there on the site and do his magic, but he's more important in the command vehicle coordinating the defenses +1+. There's nothing we could do about that but to make do with the other twelve.

I nodded in acknowledgement of this news and focused on my job. I listened intently into my headphones and said, "Roger that. Breach and clear."

"76," Gory said. "We just received a report a line of BMPs and armored vans is on the move at the east side."

"Torbjorn?" I voiced out as I moved the mic away.

"Get them to slow down," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. "I'll handle the rest."

I nodded. Looking for the nearest unit, I then changed my channel. "Echo-Actual, Cyclops speaking. Look to the east side of the building you're on. Can you see an armored convoy?"

"Echo-Actual here!" he screamed through the other line. I could hear bullets whizzing by. "The convoy are suppressing us, over!"

"Stay there." I quickly to another unit. "Golf-Actual, Cyclops speaking. There is a convoy passing on your sector. Neutralize this tango, over?" At least they have AT rockets to throw at them.

She acknowledged. I then waited, listening to the engine. "We missed!" she screamed out loud. "They're raining down upon us!"

"Stay put." I switched again. "Lima-Actual, I need you to leave one of your Humvees in the middle of the Pierre Street. Take what you need from that Hummer because it's going to be long gone once you leave it. After that, set up a barricade a hundred feet north of the vehicle." I looked at the person across me and he gave me a thumb up as he repeatedly tapped the screen. "Artillery is coming your way, so hold your fire and brace for impact, over."

I waited for the results. Scanning the screen, I enlarged the street where my units are set up. They're doing just as I planned. And here comes the convoy. A line of red dots were slowing down, and I waited for a few moments until the screen flashed and stuttered. I can't see anything from the UAV's eyes. "Neutralize tangos," I ordered anyway.

I waited again. Torbjorn cursed again. Eleven it is then. "We're taking fire!" Lima-Actual reported. "I see two or three armor moving!"

"Repeat," I told Torbbjon, and he merely nodded. A few moments later, the screen flashed again as the artillery delivered another salvo.

"Armor neutralized!" the officer reported, and I gave a sigh of relief. "They're beginning to retreat!"

"Don't chase. Just keep yourselves inside the AO and pick off the stragglers from there."

Bullets were panging and clanging from there. "We have two down. Sending them back."

"Roger that." I switched to Mercy's channel. "We got two more incoming. Make room, over."

"We are coordinating with them as we speak," Angela said, her voice mildly frantic. I don't want to bother her work for more than necessary, so I refocused on the perimeter.

So far, only infantry and a few technicals were probing our defenses. Not a problem, but otherwise, we'll just order another round to whomever annoys us the most. I enlarged the map to see what's going on outside our little battle. Our main forces are holding out, but I could see the lines thinning from each wave. The red AFHL has been steadily moving closer with reinforcements coming in from across the map, and the pink have decided to attack on both the main lines and us. We're drawing a lot of attention, but it looks like they're more set on taking their key objective rather than playing with us.

I checked the scanners again for any signs of magnetism. Nothing. Doomfist's is keeping safe hand in this battle, but we already maimed hundreds of his cohorts so far, and stalled his army's advance more than once. It would be much easier for him to show up now and deal as much damage to us, and _then_ we could hunt him down. Unless…

"I've been thinking," I told the other guy, taking out an MRE from under the table. "Is there a chance Doomfist knows that we have his kryptonite?"

"He wouldn't have been this cautious if he didn't," he agreed with me. "Shame. I could kill him right now if I know where he is." He then looked at me with his bionic eye lighting. "Maybe we already did. Who knows, he might have been a feet too close to an artillery strike."

"That's just wishful thinking," I replied, ripping the end of the meal bag. "We need to be under the mindset that dear young Ufuoma is still out there in the city, waiting for a chance to strike."

He shrugged. "Eh, strike us here, strike us there; he's dead either way. However, I _would_ rather settle him being at least unconscious along the night. Once we broke the AFHL's back in the morning and take the city by afternoon, we'll organize search and destroy operations." His face then grew serious. "We still need you to take the shot, of course."

I waved him off. He knows my answer. I turned my head to my early morning breakfast. The screen said it's getting quiet now, but I can see massive movement on all directions. Torbjorns ordered the militia to start setting up the turrets to be set up and turned the heavies toward the highest concentration to soften the incoming assault. They'll have to time this right if the AFHL is going to succeed. Too bad I can't let that happen.

As I was tucking away the dessert packet named 'Cheese Bomb Surprise', because I don't want to be surprised right now, Gory then alerted, "76! One of the sensors in the southern sewer complex has been triggered!"

"Torbjorn," I called. "We got incoming. Underground."

"Automated defenses online," he said, changing his map to the sewer levels. "Let's see how-" The screen flickered all of a sudden, and the turret signatures has been going out one by one. "The hell!?" He frantically tapped repeatedly at the screen.

I switched to a channel. "November-Actual, this is-"

"Massive movement all over the perimeter!" Gory interjected. _That_ is not what I wanted to hear. "Ground forces are mobilizing towards us!"

I groaned. "November-Actual, this is Cyclops. Send a platoon at waypoint Charlie. We have confirmation that the enemy is moving through the sewers. Tell the platoon leader to shoot anything that pops out of the manholes. You copy?"

"We copy!" he shouted through the explosions in the background. At least he's understanding enough to follow his orders in the heat of battle.

"We're counting five BMPs," Gory informed me. "Three at north, two at east."

"The men up north have bingo on AT rounds," I informed Torbjorn.

"I'm sending the Tsahv to support them then." He then spoke at his mic.

I contemplated on the tactic the insurgents are using. It's clear they're committing a lot of forces in erasing us from the face of the earth, but they _have_ to know that we could respond to that well. It's an age-old tactic, but…

"Torbjorn, let's drive down on waypoint Charlie."

"What for?" I told him my suspicions. He scratched his beard. "Are ye sure about this?"

"If I'm not, we just wasted some gas. It's not like we got cut off from the command channel if we don't stay here."

He sighed. "Okay. You drive, I'll cover yer station."

I went back to the car and took the contents within it, away from prying eyes. I settled it inside the Stryker. As we drove on, I noticed that the road became bumpier. Must be the debris and crater formed with all the commotion. The bumps and holes doesn't really affect my driving much. It's just annoying.

We just passed by the platoon we ordered a while ago to stand on guard. Which then reminded me. "You found out how they killed off your turrets at the sewers?" I remember them being tough as nails. They couldn't've gone down that easily.

"Can't tell," he admitted from behind my seat. "They short-circuited too fast to pass on a proper feedback, and we can't be certain if it's EMP." That's a relief, and at the same time a disappointment. "We'll need to get one of my babies up close to know for certain."

"Can we get anybody inside there and pick one up?"

"Sounds risky, but I'll send a squad right away." I then heard him giving the orders. "Turn left two blocks up. We'll be meeting them when they exit."

I parked the car near the manhole. We're also with some men patrolling the area just in case. While we waited for the team to come back, we evaluated at the situation outside. So far, the insurgents were continuing their assault on our lines. Occupying the buildings right across our perimeter and shooting from there. Torbjorn popped a few round on the infrastructures (being careful around buildings doesn't outweigh the loss of our men) to discourage them. No signs of breaking yet, thankfully, but we can never be sure.

"They're coming out," Torbjorn announced, getting up. "Don't use the comms. I'll be away for a while."

I gave him a thumb up as I was listening to an interesting report. By the time he disembarked, I just then heard about enemy armor, more than we have ever estimated, right behind their infantry. About less than a dozen of them. They were not doing anything to support their troops, however. It just means that they're pulling up for one big punch. Only question now is when.

I then heard the hatch opening. "Torbjorn, can yo—Hoo-wee!" It almost me wish to go and kill the doctors who've given me an enhanced nose. "You smell like hell and death!"

"Shut yer mouth," he said as he plopped across me. "It's the bastard's fault for throwing me turret in the waters. Now, I think I know how they broke my machines. Microwaves."

"Damn," I muttered lowly. Besides EMP, microwave tech could mess up as simple as a wristwatch +2+. "They've got to be real close in order to make that effective though."

"They used short-waved grenades, or some kind. And it looks like it they have them aplenty." He pointed at the recent microwave attacks on the map.

"Should we start flooding the tunnels?" I asked

Filling the sewers with water was our backup plan if the AFHL were overrunning with them. We could've just done that in the first place in order to prevent another passage behind our lines, but that's going to discourage them further when they realize a direct approach isn't going to cut. Our job _is_ to lure them after all, and we were hoping Doomfist would take the risk to go down there so we could drown all of them there in one go.

Since we have no confirmation if he _is_ there, flooding the sewers feels wasteful. Especially of it's when it's still early. Judging by the pattern of the attacks, it looks like they're content on destroying turrets layer by layer, and at a crucially slow pace. No sighting of them popping out of manholes.

Torbjorn came to a decision. "Not yet. If I'm reading the reports right, it means there's not that many people down there for us to pull the switch."

"It's a little risky if you ask me. They might have a hefty reserve force down there to take up the advantage."

He scratched his beard. "We'll send some fire teams to delay them. The microwave bombs doesn't leave that much extensive damage anyway. Once they found opposing forces, they either press on or pull out. And if we successfully pressured them to commit more troops, _then_ we lower the floodgates."

I nodded. "You're the boss."

We resumed our stations on that hour. It seems like we can still hold out a little while longer, although we're continuing to receive more casualties. Ammunition is still good, and we only lost one artillery piece from a lucky shell. The ammo feed cooked off and killed three guys and injured the rest. It's a nasty image to imagine, but the war goes on.

Underground, we received reports of contact. No casualties on both sides. Once one of them starts shooting, the other would skedaddle. At least we've deterred their advance and no turrets got hurt the whole time around.

"76," Gory called. "There are reports of multiple explosions from around this sector."

"That's breaking news material right there," I replied as I observed the screen.

"Simultaneously."

Me and Torbjorn looked at each other. We then scrambled for our mics. "November-Actual, get your platoon that was assigned for waypoint Charlie to move and secure these coordinates."

"I'm flooding the gates now," said the other guy. "Ordering the people underground to retreat." He suddenly stopped. "A platoon can't cover all those sites."

I tapped my chest. "Gory, tell me where we're least defended."

"Sending coordinates to your TOI," she said after a moment.

I was about to get into the driver's seat when Torbjorn grabbed my arm. "Wait. I'll drive. You get on that MG up top."

Nodding, I took the wire connecting and recharging my armor so that it wouldn't suddenly plugged off and climbed at the seat bolted at the ceiling and opened the hatch. The evening air hit me harder than a punch. It feels very refreshing to get a breather, even though the air was cloyed with dust and ash. Cocking and the turning the safeties off at the .50 cal in front of me, I was cut off from the chain of command and back into the dark, dirty and gritty.

"Get ready to shoot," Torbjorn warned me. "It's right around this corner. Don't mess it up."

"Please. Have some faith in me." I smiled as I wore my Tactical Visor. As soon as we turned, I immediately fired upon the hostiles. Civilians carrying weapons and ideas too big for them were climbing out of a hole on the ground. I knew they have to attack us underground, but we never knew they have the guts to do this +3+. It's a shame a leader who planned an assault of this caliber is my enemy.

Everyone on the area scrambled as soon as the shooting starts. Most are lucky, but some aren't. Torbjorn activated the hull-mounted turrets to help me suppress them. A moment or two later, they started firing back. Bullets were whizzing by my head and panging on the hull. I flinched my head down when a green flash erupted in front of me.

"I'm still recharging, 76," Gory informed me. "The process isn't as effective if I raise the Orgon Barrier all the time."

"I'll keep that in mind," I told it as I tucked my arms to keep my silhouette small and continued firing in short burst and in small arcs.

The Stryker's 30mm cannon swerved to aim at a group who's hiding behind a car. I know my eardrums could resist it, but the noise of the explosion left my ears ringing. It ended the life of that group, but there's still more guys climbing out of the hole. A few were also throwing smoke grenades at me, filling my vision in darkness.

"Amazing," I mumbled out as I activated my infrared. As soon as I did, I caught a man running for me with a big bag. High-end explosives, is what I guessed. He's using the smoke as cover to finish us off, but I just said, "That's not very wise." As soon as he was riddled with fist sized holes and dropping on his back, the exploded, temporarily blowing away the smoke.

They kept throwing more and more smoke grenades at me, and I could smell a hint of tear gas along with it. Trying everything, from more satchel charges and raising their RPGs at me, but I wouldn't let them. Even though Torbjorn couldn't fight back, at least he has me to finish the job.

This has gone for like ten minutes before the cavalry arrived. The rockets that did fly at us got intercepted was quickly by the Stryker's anti-missile systems. Shrapnel peppered at my shield, and I'm a little worried by our shield systems. While the fight drew out, two Hummers screeched around the corner parked at the Stryker's sides and started disembarking. The enemy ran out of smokes by then, so I hastily took off my visor and continued the fight as they scurry back down underground. Moments later, after they cheered, the insurgents suddenly came back up in droves all wet from the sewers.

We were about to fire until we saw arms rising. Everyone from our side started shouting to cease-fire before we do anything stupid. As soon as nothing came to pass, they started rounding up prisoners, I dropped the .50 cal in plopped down on my seat, raising my head and sighed. That's another battle chalked down.

"Situation, Torbjorn?" I asked as I checked if I still have my Infiltrator Mask on. It's still there.

"They're all moving in from the south side!" he said through the comms, and that gave me a chill.

"The what?"

"Everyone and their mothers are staging a big attack. We just saw them now, and it's only a matter of time!"

"Perfect," I cursed. "Get the reserve companies Oscar to Sierra, and reinforce…" I noticed that the sewers are now flooding the streets. It smells as bad as it was imagined, but what made me pause was the things floating from the scuzzy water. Small wooden boxes aloft and flowing all over the streets, and I could only say, "You assho-"

Bright flashes and unbearable pressure erupted all over the place as the boxes exploded. Screams of death and betrayal can be heard, and it aches my heart that I couldn't do anything about it. That I couldn't have prevented it. Only the bright red hatred filled my vision as I fell down on the floor, out cold.

+1+ It's also to prevent the confusion on how Mr. Lindholm could repair the guns out in the field and be in the radio, coordinating the defenses at the same time.

+2+ Although, microwave is a form of electromagnetic radiation. The confusion from 76 may be caused by the distinction in both technologies if applied in military terms. Both were heavily developed at the height of the Omnic Crisis, but what makes the 'EMP-tech' more popular than its counterpart is because it has a longer range. One advantage microwave has is that it's difficult to identify and trace the signatures unless your sensors specifically scans for it.

+3+ 76 thought of this because using explosives in enclosed space is very dangerous to the detonators rather than the detonatee. When an explosive detonated in tight spaces, the air trapped would pressurize so suddenly that it would kill whomever is inside, similar as diving under hundreds of feet underwater, but more rapid and just as deadly. Later reports tell that the AFHL insurgents actually made holes throughout the sewer ceiling in order for the trapped air to escape, which increased the rate of survivors at the time of the explosion.

* * *

 _I was almost shivering in here. The hell happened to the radiator? Crap, someone should go fix that. Damn this not-so-insulating jacket. Come on, Jack, come on. It's just low temperatures. It's not like it's a laser pointed sniper rifle. Please just… stop shivering!_

 _Someone was shaking my shoulder and I popped an eye out. "Sir," Raj called me out, tapping his wristwatch. "Five minutes."_

 _I massaged my temple. The ringing in my ears hasn't stopped yet. "Already?" He gave me a look. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it." I stood up and examined the hole in the wall._

 _Huh, no wonder the radiator isn't working. The little city is covered lightly in snow can be seen from this perch. It looks dead, and made even deader with all those craters and burnt trees here and there. All I could think about is… well, nothing I could do about that. A messed up city now is still a messed up city tomorrow._

 _The noise is getting into me. Sighing, I reached for my speech cue cards from my pocket. I don't need to memorize them, since with my memory I don't have to. I just simply reviewed them one by one. I don't know how the PR department did it, but I could see myself saying this. And if it didn't, I'll just have to fire them. Hmm… maybe I'll_ threaten _to fire them. And next they'll do their jobs harder._

 _I decided to go with that plan as Pvt. Raj waved me over by the door. The two guards beside it were looking at me as if_ I _destroyed the city. Nodding, I tore my eyes away from the sorry sight and let the guards push it for me. The noise intensified._

 _Back then, it would've looked like a swell garden that even my mother would've approved of. It's a hundred times bigger than hers, but I could see the care put into it. I could imagine it now; a neatly cut hedge over here, a row of expensive bonsai over there, a fancy looking rose bush and a well-groomed vegetable garden._

 _Now under the grey clouded sky, that hedge is uprooted and slowly witling down to a dry shrub, the bonsai are all smashed, the rose bush is an ashy husk, and the rows of vegetables isn't edible anymore. Oh, and let's not forget the hundreds of angry citizens of this lovely town shouting languages that would make a Marine blush. Eh, just friggin' ignore them._

 _As I was given a microphone from a stranger and stood in the middle of the garden (no podium. That would just make me look superior, my PR said). I have to look as tired as possible and make it look like I share their pain. Although, in my thoughts, all I wanted is to get out of this miserable place, funding be damned._

 _Composing myself, I put up a face that I'm delivering this from a heavy heart. I then turned the mic on and began. "Citizens of Schaffhausen." And they all stopped to listen. I made sure I pronounced this place right this time. "My name is Commander Jack Morrison, representing Overwatch._

" _I trust that you are all informed on what happened last night at the Thiergarten Restaurant, and that you are… eager," almost said dying, "to know what happened to the friends and family that were involved by this tragedy." They're giving me angry stares, but no fist flying yet. You're doing good Jacky-boy. "Rest assured that we did all we could do in order to prevent harming the citizens on our rescue." A few heated words were exchanged, but it couldn't be helped. I mean, it's true. We all did what we can on that time._

" _We at Overwatch admitted that we were unprepared for this kind of misdeed when these brave men and women called out for our help." Which the Schaffhausen Police Department are not. They wouldn't do anything for the past ten hours when the crime began so they could wait for us. And if we fail,_ we'll _the ones taking the blame. "These… people," I have to find someone who could tell me the appropriate name for Omnics, because 'people' ain't cutting it, "have been on our watch list for some time now, and even though the world is relieved that we have taken every member in custody, I… mourn for the loss of life that was dealt by these renegades."_

 _Renegades, that's a funny name. They wouldn't even let me call them Omnics nowadays, not while the peace treaty is in effect. "In the end we couldn't, and wouldn't, meet their demands for the men and women's safeties." It was ridiculous in the first place. Release a friggin' war criminal? And what's that little metal cube gonna do once we let it out of its cage? Roll away? "They have no right to do so in the first place, especially when innocent lives are involved._

" _After the incident, we tried our best to save the wounded. But even though the best of our medics couldn't save them all." If you could call a medic incompetent because he couldn't perform CPR on a man who's cut from the waist down, then I don't know what is. "They were just too injured to last-" they then started shouting again, calling me indecent names and insulting our organization. "—You can't expect everyone to be saved." A stabbing pain flared from my right eye. Someone threw a stone at me! I scanned the crowd to see who did it, but I think everyone is throwing something at us. I could tell they want to rip my head off, giving the police something to do with their riot shields. I moved my hand to my face. I think it's bleeding._

 _Raj and the others were now pulling me away, even though I insisted to find the bastard who publicly stoned me. I think I saw him/her but the VTOL was now fast approaching. When the ropes dropped in, I looked back to see the chaos that's ensuing. Knowing when to cut my losses, we hooked ourselves up and flew away from this wretched cesspit._

" _Why'd you have to do that?!" I screamed at Raj as soon as the hatch closed._

" _Your life was in danger!" he reasoned out._

 _I pointed at my bleeding eye. "This is dangerous to you?" A medic was approaching me with first aid kit, but I pushed her away. "It'll heal!" I sighed exasperatingly. "Right now, let's just go home." I plopped down on the bench and started to strap in. The medic was still approaching me, and I irritably asked, "What do you want?"_

"That's going to leave a scar," Angela said as I slowly opened my eyes. She was busy treating me. She looked weary, but as soon as she saw me waking up, she gave me small smile and went back to her work.

I don't know where we are, only that it's still nighttime, I'm bare-chested and we're indoors. The fire outside was seeping orange rays through the windows, which is enough to illuminate the… museum? Crap, I must have ended up in the makeshift triage. I winced as I craned my head to see the tapestries and glass cases glinting under the veil of light with priceless artifacts still displayed inside them +1+.

"Who…wha—where?" I stuttered, trying to get as much information as possible. I could feel that there's several lacerations on my chest and abdomen area. It wasn't shrapnel; Gory would guarantee my immunity in that. It feels like first and second-degree burns. I know many kinds of pain enough to differentiate them.

"You have to stay down." Mercy gently pushed my shoulders down. "There's no need to rush it."

"But… there's a battle going on." I remembered the holes, the artillery, bombs floating from the water. The booms, it's still echoing in my ears, but reality soon hit me as I realized there must be an artillery piece nearby. A flash confirms it, followed by a thunderous explosion. I almost thought it was lightning. Then, I immediately reached for my face and sighed in relief when I felt the hems of my Infiltrator Mask. "How long was I out?"

She pulled her sleeve to peek her watch. "About forty-nine minutes." She then went back to replacing my bandage

"What about-oooh…" My head spun all of a sudden, forcing me to lie down again, my head resting on a rough pillow. The world blurred around me, but I held on my straws and kept conscious.

"You were pretty shot up back there." I flinched as I felt something, a needle perhaps, prickling on my skin. I don't know how powerful the narcotics she gave me, but it did half of what it was intended to do. "Just relax." She sighed. "If you're looking for a battle, you better forget it. Not only is it bad for your health, but there's not much you could do. The men already took the necessary precautions. We don't have to worry about being overrun soon. But as you can see…" she waved around her, and I began to realize the shadowy shapes on the floor.

Dozens of wounded were sprawled around the expensive tiles, some twisting around as the drugs wore off, and some lay still with their blood pooling. Others, in body bags. The damage was extensive, and we accepted the losses. And yet, I can't accept that we lost this many. I blinked my eyes hard. We shouldn't have flooded the sewers. We shouldn't have pulled that much force in the first place. Even if I learn from the mistakes today, using trial and error on living beings doesn't sit right with me.

I opened my eyes. "Torbjorn," I thought out loud.

"He's the one who dragged your sorry ass into my clinic. You should consider thanking him next time." Mercy then bit off the thread, stood up and said, "Well, guess that'll do."

"Dammit, why don't you just beam me up already?" At least it'll save some time.

Her hands are on her hips. "Too much of that stuff can kill you, you know +2+. Now, if you'll excuse me, a patient is waiting." And she went away to the other side of the room. It's as if she didn't worry about me at all, but then again, she's smug enough to express that no patients ever died in her clinic.

Now that I got my head straight again a few minutes later, I then thought where she tucked Gory and my stuff away. My jacket isn't tied on my waist too. I reached for the pillow behind me and my assumption was right. It was actually my backpack. Pulling it out, I sat upright and unzipped the bag. All my stuff is in here including my jacket and my visor carefully hidden inside. Can't find the Omnic Armor though.

I grabbed an extra shirt, a protein bar and my jacket just to start things up. After a careful session of breathing, the pain numbed down to merely manageable, giving me enough tolerance to stand around and walk.

This constant moaning was really getting into me, and the realization that there may be many more in the other rooms didn't sit well on my stomach. From being shell-shocked to being amputated, the things I can't see are the ones that unnerved me. The only solution for this problem was keeping my eyes forward and don't gather too much attention. It works a little bit.

After reaching the entrance doors, permanently unhinged, I didn't expect to find the HQ so near the triage. Tents were hastily erected in the middle of the road, an overgrowth of wires connecting to generator and radar arrays sprawled over the nearby walls and utility poles, and dozens of welding equipment were sparking like firework displays at the motor pool, which was on the middle of the parking lot.

"Hey!" Angela shouted, running after me. "You can't just go outside!"

"And you can't just leave your patients," I countered as I walked down the steps.

She scoffed, following me. "I've already stabilized the lot of them. You, on the other hand, were pulled out of a burning vehicle."

I rolled my shoulder. "Don't feel like I did. Just tell me where I can find shorty."

She growled in annoyance. "Fine." She then moved ahead of me. "Just don't fall down along the way."

While on the way, I could hear a machine gun firing nearby. I looked up to see one of the men were letting it rip from the rooftop, and that means the enemy is close by. I hurried my pace until I saw our objective. Torbjorn was leaning on a large TOI with the other senior officers, directing the forces from there. I took a peek and I didn't like the implications of it.

On the map, over half of the blue oblong was chomped off. Elements of enemy armor and infantry are supporting their new battle lines, but I could see that we're pulling our reserve companies in a defensive position. All of it. That speaks how desperate we currently are.

When Torbjorn's red bionic eye caught us, he immediately excused himself and approached us without his signature grin. His clothes was covered in ashes and some of his beard is burnt off. Other than that, he's perfectly fine.

"It looks pretty bad," I said to him.

He shook his head. "You don't know the half of it."

"Try me."

He looked at Mercy and she just shrugged. He then waved us all into a tent. Once inside, which I could see is an armory, he opened a crate to lift out the Omnic Armor. "Ah, that's where it was," I said as he gave it to me.

"She still hasn't recharged fully yet, I'm afraid," he informed me.

After putting it on, Gory then spoke through my Infiltrator Mask. "I'm sorry that I couldn't raise the shields fast enough. I'll do better next time."

"That's okay," I said, patting my chest area. "We can always make them pay later." I caught Angela looking at me with a weird look, but she immediately turned away as soon as I noticed it. Ignoring it, I then turned to Torbjorn. "What's the situation?"

He sighed "Forehead deep. One good thing was that my secondary commanders were hasty enough to prevent them all from getting through us. Bad thing now is we can't control the AFHL for long. We only got about six pieces left on the field, all are now diverted to preserving our battle lines."

"That _is_ bad." We can't draw any more enemies into our vicinity anymore, which means they'll be focused on supporting the main assault. "What about Doomfist? Any sign of him?"

"We did," Angela answered, sitting on a crate. "Popped up just as the sewer bombs hit. He decimated a lot of troops the whole time there, nearly no one survived. The ones that did told me he's currently engaged on the southwest sector."

"I wish I could attest to that," Torbjorn said. "But we lost our magnet scanner along with the Stryker. And because of him, most of our communications are down. We're stuck with using runners to send our orders."

I nodded. It's frightening, but I'm still glad that one thing went right in our plan. "Okay, we got step two on the ground. I'm going to need HPR now. Any idea where it is?" Torbjorn's face pained. "Oh, don't you damn tell me-"

"It's back at the Stryker," Angela answered for him, but it didn't tempered my irritation. I almost blacked out there for second.

When I regained my balance, I yelled, "Dammit!" I began walking to that little gremlin. I was very tempted to strangle him right now. "How the hell did you forgot to bring it with you?!"

"First off," he reasoned out, raising his hands, backing away, "you were first priority. I can't fire it with you dead. Second, I couldn't find where you hid the damn thing. Ye never even told me where!"

"Hey!" Angela intervened, moving in between us. "By the end of the day, you two would have to agree that it we don't have anything to throw against Doomfist. Now, Torbjorn, do you have a plan?"

He grunted in annoyance. "Of course I have. I just needed this damn fool to wake up first."

I was about to retort, but Angela's face warned me of things to come. I huffed, letting my anger flow around me. "Fine, fine, consider it done. Let's just…" I sat at a crate, feeling the exhaustion kicking in. "Let's just hear it."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Mercy sat down and waited for Torbjorn to begin. Torbjorn, recovering from my outburst, composed himself once again, pulled out permanent marker, and began drawing on a nearby crate surface, keeping a wary eye on me. We spent the rest of the quick meet-up hearing, debating and redrafting the plan. We only have a limited window to reach the Stryker (what's left of it) and get our stuff back. And I knew now, more than ever, that after we did, that's going to be only the beginning.

+1+ For safety reasons, all the items in the Numbani Museum are all replicas, with the genuine ones only to be displayed in important events. Before the start of the war however, all the artifacts were transported away from Numbani and only replicas were left.

+2+ Aside from being very painful, Dr. Ziegler's nanotechnology does not guarantee a safe recovery with prolonged exposure, even with 76's physiology. Several theses were submitted from multiple universities around the world supports this. On a side note, all the submitters claimed to have invented nano-meds before Dr. Ziegler does.


	10. Chapter 10

With my half-lidded eyes, I saw the first few rays of dawn. From across the street, what little left of the window was slowly painting a golden canvas. The sky above me was hiding away its stars and the clouds that hanged by steadily filling with captured light. It's going to take a while before morning comes in view, but it sure is comforting knowing there's a tomorrow.

Sighing, I breathed in the dewy and ashy air, burning the smell into my head before I replaced my Tactical Visor. It all came crashing in as the radio cackled gunfire, pleas for help, and madness. No matter how dejected I was from reality seconds ago, it only takes this much noise to bring me back into the fold. This too is comforting.

"Scanners shows that they've completed their turn," Gory reported.

"Another one," I ordered. Never hurts to be sure.

I'm layers deep inside the enemy cake. It would be dumb to think that they haven't sensed me yet. This ATV I'm riding on is electric, meaning no engine sounds. Unless they're all too busy pressing their advantage on the front lines, they'll be clever enough to post sentries along the road, at least to see if anyone would pass by.

"Scans shown that the nearest contact is eight blocks away. Shall we proceed?"

I nodded. Turning the bike on, I slowly drove to the messy road and scanned again. I grunted once or twice as I made my way on the apocalyptic earth. The bombs really dealt a big number on the ground I'm riding on. All the asphalt is jutting up like saw blades from the ground up, cakes of grime and dust covering all over it. Some of the places here have pipes making fountains, and I don't want to imagine where the water's coming from. I could however imagine half the city looking like this.

So far, I managed to drive onward by sticking on the grounded debris, fine enough to prevent my tires from blowing over me. I saw blips here and there popping at my HUD. They can definitely see me, at least some of them can. However, they're not doing anything. Whether they couldn't believe their eyes, they're too lazy to do anything about it, they fear the Soldier, or they're waiting for help, it really doesn't matter if they let me roam this deep. There's an off chance that they _want_ me here, and yet I couldn't reason why.

After making sure that no one is lining up a shot at me, I turned the handle and drove over the broken sidewalk. My eyes flew from window to ruined window, ever on the lookout for someone who has the balls to challenge me. I have a plasma rifle +1+ within arm's reach, and I'm not afraid to use it.

For a brief moment, I saw someone from a shop window, but he/she quickly ran deeper inside once he got a close look at me. Could be the lookout I was worrying about, but he wasn't carrying a gun by that time, and in the hour of war, that could prove deadly. Luckily for him, I have little interest on picking a fight this time around. And by the second he reported my position, it would be too late for them. I'll make sure of that.

As I was thinking about it later with my hair flicking in the wind, I figured he's one of the deserters like the reports I heard earlier. After the sewer bombs, mass desertion was the most likely next on the list for them. I guess they looked up at the definition of tarpit online and then saw themselves at a mirror. Besides them looting the valuable in whatever's left in the city, that only meant that we don't have to face a big swathe of their numbers. That doesn't mean we haven't have our fair share of fear in our hearts, but I'm just glad that we've handled our own cowards well +2+.

Still, that isn't enough to stop them though. The remaining AFHL is going for the kill in this very moment that I'm contemplating this. Cherry on top here is that Doomfist is with them, smashing our lines and raising their morale through inspiration or fear. And yet, one good thing comes out of that. Everything hinges whether Doomfist would live or not, and I'm not batting an eye once I popped his head off.

That is, if I reached the Phase Shift Amplifier in time.

"We're approaching the tango shortly," Gory chimed.

"Copy," I coolly replied as I slowed down the ATV.

Once I ditched the bike in an alleyway, shrouding it with a tarpaulin for good measure, I proceeded to the objective on foot. Sun is still between the horizons, so it's still safe to use the shadows. If I'm lucky, the guys I'm going to face would be too tired to care if I came at them in plain view, especially if they spent the whole night awake.

Reaching the block, I rounded up the corner and peeked. "Ah, there it is," I muttered as I saw the Stryker upside-down and listing on a crater. Besides that there's looters crawling all over the place, trying to turn the Stryker over, I'm more relieved that the old boy is still intact. Touching the side of my visor, I then called Torbjorn. "Prawn to Cyclops, you copy?"

I waited. Most of our communication systems are fried, except mine. The few we have left are given to our most critical battle groups. Torbjorn has some personal emergency spares with him, but I'm beginning to fear that I can't reach him. And we just tested it hours ago.

Finally, I heard a crackle and loud static. "…ps to Prawn, come in. Over."

Sighing, I then began. "This is Prawn, I'm requesting fire support. I'll laze, over?"

A pause, and then, "Roger that. Brace for impact. Out."

Dropping my hand and flicking off the safeties, I stared at a spot near the vehicle and waited for the music. I was starting to worry as a minute passed, but as the angels sang before, the whistles came once again with all the glory it brings. Twelve brutal blows (we only have six artillery pieces left) pulverized anyone near the vehicle. It would be sad to see the Stryker going out like this, but it's better if it's gone this way rather than getting gutted by _them_. Some of the stuff inside are mine after all.

Dozens died under the barrage, mostly those who have been very near the striker when a shell struck a glancing blow and forcing the heavy thing to tumble a couple of feet away, crushing those in its path. They haven't took shelter, however. More so than not, it actually spurred them to work harder, as if their lives depends on it.

For a brief moment, I now knew these guys aren't the run of the mill looters. They have orders. They wouldn't force themselves in this show if there weren't. And now with the Stryker's turret hatch totally accessible because of the vehicle's renewed position, they'll have an easier time getting whatever's enticing them there.

As soon as the fireworks was over, I peered around my surroundings before taking aim. I've already noted the gunners from the windows and roofs, but if I have to do this, I need to do this _now_. They're already inside for crying out loud!

Picking the one out in the open, I released my breath and fired. He stood there for a moment in the middle of the road. He then looked down to see a giant burning hole gaping out. Everyone else screamed in fear and surprise as he toppled over. I think I understand a little why the Geneva were trying to ban these guns +3+. Still, I continued firing and firing as they all screamed to get in cover.

All in all, I managed to down three hostiles before they moved into defensive positions. A few of them from higher ground began firing at me, but it took two to three green bolts in order to turn their heads away. Others took cover in slabs of fallen or jutted concrete and proceeded to fire at me from there. I hid away in order to preserve my shield and slapped in a new bat.

Breathing, I calmed my nerves and shuffled out of the corner. They did a good job lowering their heads and keeping their silhouette small, which makes it a little hard for me to hit them if I were wielding a normal gun. Unfortunately for them, I'm not carrying a normal gun. I squeezed the trigger and launched out mini-suns at the debris they're putting their lives on. A couple of well-placed shots made quick work of it and steadily turn it into a molten blistering slag. Sensing that their cover is getting smoked, they tried to run away, which makes it easier for me to pick them off.

It soon came across to their minds that they're about to fight a one-sided battle, which prompted them to pop smoke grenades in the streets in order to cover their retreat. I'd be glad to save the ammunition and let them, but that just puts me in a bad position. If they get away now, so too with what they had gathered.

"Get those shields ready, Gory," I told her, limbering up.

"It's ready when you are," it replied.

Focusing, I popped out of my cover and shot at the tangoes at the higher ground. I managed to clip one, but not much else. After emptying the clip, I slapped another one and sprinted out into the open, using their own smoke to protect me. A blizzard of lead and brass hammered at my trail, but it fails to slow my advance. Another good thing though is that not once did my barrier rose.

"I'm coming for you, you little dips!" I yelled as I took cover on the Stryker's hull, ready to get inside. Firing a few shots at the buildings just to be sure, I slung my rifle at my back and brought out my combat knife. Keeping my senses at the maximum, I rushed inside the open hatch.

I felt the familiar claustrophobia creeping up my spine as soon as I entered the dark compartments. Equipment inside were now all thrown about, leaking and broken. Some of them are burning, which the possible causes are because of the explosions, the munitions cooking, the other explosion, the looting, and probably the combination of thereof.

Said looters are now ready to kill me. There were three men, all their rifles trained at me. They've prepared, but I did not stop. They all fired at once I came into view, all blocked by my Orgone Barrier as I tackled the unlucky fellow that was looking dumbly in front of me. Along with that tackle, I gave him the taste of my steel.

As I was about to pull the knife out of his chest, which was stuck because of my overzealousness, an enemy came at my flank and battered my head with his rifle stock while the other living creature inside this hellhole screamed in mad vengeance, ramming his shoulder at my sides in order to take me down. It was cute that they tried.

The stock whip was too weak, as if he didn't put his weight on it, and the tackle barely budged me, forcing him to flail and fell on the metal floor/wall. Getting serious now, I left the knife where it is and delivered a light punch on the only standing man's chin in order to faze him for a moment. Then I swiftly stomped the head of the enemy below me, leaving him unconscious or dead. I stomped a few times just to be sure.

Now that out of the way, I grabbed the last hostile's collar as he was about to bring his guard up, and threw him out of the hatch. I missed. His head unfortunately smacked on the edges of the tiny opening. I seethed in sympathetic pain as I heard the dull ring, and I know how hard I threw him. He still ended up outside though, with a pool of blood.

Dusting off my hands, I muttered, "Now let's get to business." As I was trying to maneuver, I saw the flash disks and folders inside one of their bags. Intelligence and other sensitive info, probably. I grabbed the bags in one neat corner so I could gather them up by the time I leave. There might be something in there that's worth saving. After pulling out my knife and sheathing it, I moved deeper to find my weapon.

It didn't took long in order to find where my HPR has gone. After swiping the keycard, the hidden compartment inside the floor/wall opened to reveal my prize. "Ah, sweetie!" I gently grabbed its sleek and sexy metal body. "Have you missed me?"

"Sensors caught an enemy convoy running for us," Gory warned.

Flying metal panged at the hull once again, which made me crouch down lower. In the middle of the vehicle, I saw the TOI fuming with nasty chemicals and leaking liquid crystals. Nothing there is salvageable now, except one thing.

"This'll take a moment," I calmed my armor's fears as I grabbed the ammunition. Moving over to the now sparking and smoking TOI, I swapped the keycard at the slot on its side. Nothing happened. Sighing, I slowly edged my hand between the shutters and pulled it up. A big yellow spark blew up at my face. It was thanks to my mask that I got away from that scot-free.

Once the green smoke was fanned away, I bent over and I could only widen my eyes in shock. "No… no, no, no, no!" I shoved my hand inside to take grab the plastic bag that contained the Phase Shift Amplifier. At least… of what's left of it. Under the faint light, I unraveled the smoking plastic bag and the PSA fell unto my palm. It has a huge crack across the surface, and dents and welts from the burns pocked at one side. It's completely unusable.

Cursing under my breath, I slammed my fist at the table in frustration. Thinking of matters more important, I ducked down to reach for my communicator. "Prawn to Cyclops, you copy?" I noticed that my voice rose an octave. "Prawn to Cy-Damn!" I bullet banged on the desecrated table. "We're getting out of here!" With the PSA out of commission, I need to save as much battery as I can before I have to confront Doomfist, meaning I'll be sticking with my plasma rifle until it dries up.

With my back against the steel wall/roof, I took a quick peek outside, and then whipped my head back in before they could get a good shot at it. I managed to know my surroundings at least. A lot more footmen are gathering and firing right outside. Knowing what to expect and what to do next, I left the C4 inside the Stryker, picked up the bags of intelligence and threw all six of my smoke grenades outside. I'll get some more later, but for now, I need to live. I bid farewell just moments before I dashed outside.

As they all pelted at me, trying to punch through the thick smoke and to try depleting my barrier, I never once fired back. There's no point trying to since it would be a waste of time and ammo. I almost bumped into a man just in time my visor could inform me. He couldn't see me yet, so I saved him the effort by shooting him down.

I hurried up to take cover at a street corner. Huffing, I brought out my detonator and rapidly squeezed the trigger. I then flinched at the dull boom behind me. Instinctively ducking at the sound of bullet impact next to my face, I saw a technical at the main road, gunning at me. I ran away and managed to reach my ATV in the alley.

"Prawn to Cyclops!" I shouted at my communicator as I drove out of the alley with full power, with three technical barreling at me. The uneven road made it harder to accelerate, but as soon as I got the speed, driving was now easier. "Prawn to—Gah!" A shot blasted a part of my rubber seat! "Prawn to Cyclops, are you there?"

"Cyclops here," Torbjorn calmly replied from the other end of the line. "Status?"

"Three technicals on my tail!" I turned around to be sure. Same count. "I have achieved one of the primary objectives!"

"The other?" His voice was tense.

"Negative! Thing's all shot up!" I ducked as my barrier flared up again.

"What?! How did that—Just get yer ass back here!" I could imagine him seething red. "Updating your GPS."

My HUD blinked up to draw a new route on the road. Annoyed, I swiped it away. I already know where to drive this thing. Even though I appreciated the help, I'd rather not use the main road with _them_ hot on my heels. And that would be a great deal harder on its own since I'm not familiar with the streets around here other than a glance on the map. I looked back and saw that the techincals are having a hard time catching up with all the mess botching the road. Grinning silently to myself, it won't be long before I ditch their sorry asses.

"We're approaching hostile territory, 76!" Gory warned me all of a sudden.

I dropped my smile and checked my HUD, replying, "I see them." A bunch of red diamonds were all lined up a couple of blocks ahead of us. I cursed myself for underestimating their cohesion. I expected a little anarchy would shake their command line even for a while, but I never expected to box me in.

They were all firing loudly, but apparently, they're not aiming at me. IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) wasn't picking up anything from the other side. Then again, Doomfist did some major damage throughout the city. Whomever it is they're fighting, whether these guys were left behind or rebels rebelling each other, it would be a good chance to hook up with some friends for once. It's a risk, but there's a good reward behind it.

With a plan setting in motion, I filled Gory with the details and revved my engines harder, aiming for the middle of the formations. Once I'm in range, I steadily stood up on the ruined leather seat, with only a hand on the throttle to balance myself. I huffed in and out, keeping myself calm and all the while correcting the bike's course. As soon as a guy turned around with a dumb look on his face, I jumped.

The landing wasn't smooth, but that's to be expected. A few guns started totting at me by the time I got up. Rushing towards a big slab, I took cover, brought out my detonator and checked the location of my ATV in my minimap. I clenched my teeth as it grew closer and closer to the enemy formation. By the time it got there, I squeezed the switch.

It didn't take too much thought in order to know how they're all faring with the whole bike exploding on their faces. The bright light and the screaming gave it away. I have to join the fun soon though, because if I don't, those technical would run over me in a minute.

It was hard trying to pass through both the fire coming from the technical's MGs from behind and the rifle fire at the front. I was hoping that both sides would hesitate to shoot in this angle lest they hit each other. But nope. Gunfire is just as liberal as ever, and I could hear the pained screams caused by the friendly fire.

I dove down to a crater and kept my head down. Briefly rising, I could assess that I gathered their undivided attention. There's an alleyway on my left, which I could easily take in order to shake off my attackers and circle around to meet up with whomever they were fighting. On the other hand, I could also see a crater in front of me that's deeper than mine, according to my scans. That would leave me another escape option.

My hand scratched the side of my visor, telling it to focus the scan. A click later, they told me that I was right. Without wasting more time, I scrambled out of my hole, ignoring the constant eruptions of dirt and asphalt around me, and dropped down into the hole.

The sewers. I expected that it would be the sewers is where I'm dropping. I didn't expect a graveyard though. Under the daggers of light, almost two dozen bodies are laying around the river of refuse. At least on this section of the sewer lines. A lot of them are wearing civilian clothes, but there's one or two donning a uniform; don't know which side.

"Now that's a stuff for nightmares," I voiced out. I tried checking their bodies since I won't have to worry about company any time soon. Disappointingly, all their rifles are now melted in a cold slag, which is expected. I was hoping my scavenging adventures would lead me to at least a grenade or something, but it looks like they expended everything before they went down +4+.

Aside from the corpse party, this sewer tunnel looks spacey enough. Everything is cemented all the way. No light here, aside from the holes cut out from the road. It's quite smaller than New York +5+, smells just as bad +6+, but it'll have to do.

"We could always ignore them, 76," Gory advised as I ran forward. "We could probably go a lot faster without company."

"Situations changed," I said between breaths. "With the PSA fried, we might need a little more manpower to compensate for it." It's going to be our last battle after all. And if they aren't keen on that plan, at least after I obliterate their opposition, I'll just leave another headache for the AFHL to deal with. "How far are we from the enemy roadblock?"

"I can't give you an exact location," it admitted.

"That's fine by me. Just highlight the roadblock. I want to hit them with my knife."

"Highlighting now." Ahead of me, a part of the ceiling turned red.

"You ready for this?" I asked once I got under it, arming my HPR's Helix Rockets. I was a considerable distance away.

"Remember that our shields are down to forty-nine per cent."

I rolled my shoulders. "We're only going to scare them, that's it." I'm more worried about the rockets not penetrating the sewer ceilings. I don't want to expend more precious ammo than I need to.

Again, an explosion in enclosed space is rather deadly to the ones inside it, even for the triggerman. What's different this time is that there's more outlets for the air to flow out, and the guy who's going to do the bombing isn't some human.

Gently pressing the trigger, the rockets whooshed out of the tube and tore the topside a new one. I was a little worried about a cave in, but I'm sure they built this place to last. I'm pretty sure, I think. With all the shaking going on, it's giving me a trickle of doubt.

"There you are," I whispered as I aimed my plasma rifle on the newly made skylight, architected by me. From the top of my lungs I shouted, "Get up on your faces and say 'Aah!' you Mad Max rejects!" Once the dust finally settled, I could see a face. Then there was none, because I punched a hole on it with a neat plasma shot

That was when all hell broke loose as pure hatred poured inside. I was in a good angle for me to not get hit by any of that. Each time they reposition in order for a clear shot at me, I get clean at them too. It was about whoever shoots first would be declared as the winner. And with my visor aiding me, it's hard not to lose.

I can't tell what they're planning after the tenth guy fell face forward into the hole. They've all stopped shooting, but I could still hear their voices shrilled with fear and a lot of anger. "Time to go," I quickly declared as soon as I saw a rain of iron spheres. With a quick roll backwards, I eluded another death from frag and shrapnel.

"That'll keep them busy." I dusted off the moss off my jacket and ran deeper into the sewer. Afterwards, I could hear the men behind me resumed firing.

With that out of the way, I crossed at the intersection so that in case that I go topside, I won't get fired upon again. Since I'm being conservative about my rocket firing, I tried finding a manhole. It wasn't long till I saw a ladder leading out. Once I got up top, I pushed the cover open and looked around.

"Whoops!" I cried out as someone fired at my head, forcing me to pull it down. I reached down into my pocket, pulled a piece of glass that I kept earlier and held it out in the air. As I suspected, I could see uniformed men from the reflection, which saves a lot of trouble, forming a defense inside a ruined building. An apartment complex, I think.

I kept hanging on as I tapped my chest. "Gory, is there something out there that we can use to communicate with them?"

"Scanning… scanning… There's a short range radio."

"Hook me up." I waited for a response until I heard the crackle on my ear. "If anybody can copy, please respond. Over." I then switched to Gory. "Loop that bit 'til they can get back on me, will ya?"

A response came shortly after. "This is Sgt. Onwuatuegwu of the Numbani 1st. Who is this?"

"Okay, sarge." I don't need to aggravate him by mispronouncing his name. "I see you're in one hell of a pickle there. You the people holed up in that apartment? I see you from here."

"Not to be rude, but I would like to know who I am speaking with." I could feel a tang of annoyance in his voice.

"You're speaking to Mr. 'Your-only-way-out'. I've been sent from the highest echelon of command to rescue survivors stranded behind enemy lines."

"You have confirmation?"

"Wait a mo'." I then switched to Gory. "Gory, get me Torbjorn."

A moment later. "Can you tell me what the PSA looks like?" he asked, with a hint of desperation. I know this man long enough that he could keep his cool, meaning it's _that_ bad over there.

"Later. Now, I'm going to need an escort getting back. I already have one right here, but I need them cooperate. Militia-type, I think. Can you get me someone official-like so these guys could follow me? I'll be here bouncing the signal."

"Yer talking to 'im. Patch me in."

I told Gory to do so and I let the two parties have their tete-a-tete. Rats were running around the sewer floor, but I paid them no mind. It took a full ten minutes before the dear sergeant spoke up. "Soldier: 76, is it?" I silently cursed at Torbjorn for revealing my identity, but it sounds like they're willing to accept that truth.

"'Hi!' by the way."

"I have no idea how the military got you under their pay. Is that you from the manhole across the street? I don't know how you found us, but in any case we are glad that you did. You said you have a way out?"

"Down the sewers. There's a convoy waiting for us; we'll set you up nicely there." I looked back when I heard a boom echoing in the tunnels.

"Many of the pathways there are blocked. We checked."

After I was sure that the explosions were nothing, I replied. "I have a special map. Never got lost with it." Or at the very least, my echolocation sensors could do the job.

A silence. "What about the others? I am sure that many of my squad are stranded out there. Is there anything you could do to help us find them?"

I was afraid it's going to lead into this. "I'm afraid this is my last run for the morning now. I've gotten myself into a lot of close calls before I reached you. With the massive enemy movement at top, it's going to get worse from here." I paused. "I'll make sure I do another run by this afternoon, but for now, I need you to cooperate with me."

"…Fine. What should we do?"

At least now they're willing to knuckle under me. "You got any smoke grenades left with you?"

"I'll check." I waited for a reply. "There's not much left."

"That's okay. Just go up front on the open manhole and screen everything around it. I want it thick enough to shame a street riot. Got any wounded?"

"About four of them."

"Bring them in first. If you got dead, just leave them. I'll make sure and come back for them next time. For now, I'll be waiting for the first man to drop. Over." I dropped down on to the floor and gave some distance away from the drop point. I tapped my chest. "Gory, you finished processing the map? And can you patch me up with Cyclops?" I could hear hissing from outside.

"Done and done." The light coming from the manhole started to dim.

"Outstanding work." I waited for a bit until I heard static.

"Anythi—Gah! Dammit!" He'd gone off the line, and I swear I could hear bullet panging. "Okay, that's over with. Tell me yer making better progress than I have."

"Look, I need you to let me in with the setup. What did you tell them about me?"

I could hear him sighing. "It's not much. It told him that you're the Soldier from the news-"

"Thanks by the way."

He didn't missed a beat though. "—my cousin hired you to deliver expensive parts to me. Yer flight was canceled plenty of times, so you decided to drive the whole way illegally. I told my cousin a week before at the time that I don't want it, so once you reached Numbani, my cousin sold your contract to a scion of a rich family, which I made up, to secure his safety when the war started to heat up. You agreed to this because once they renewed yer contract, they have to pay you again. Also, the kid happened to be drafted in the Numbani 1st. And, like the family weren't informed about it and all that. Little did you know, he's already confirmed dead at the first hour of the fighting."

"You're making my life harder than you need to, you asshole." I stared at the manhole. It looks like the insurgents found my militia because I could hear rifle fire from outside. They're blowing their load as far as I'm concerned, judging by the thickness of the smoke. It's starting to gray out, and you have to be a psychic or something if you want to hit an elephant through that.

"Whatever, just listen. The only thing that's keeping you from leaving the city is that yer new mission, which was changed when the rich kid's grandfather renewed yer contract, is to find the boy dead or alive. I have the records about his death, you need to find it, I gave you the coordinates, you follow them in hopes that one of the leads you to his body. In short, as long I keep misleading you, we all profit from this. Scan me?"

"…" That was the worst con I have ever heard. "I'll make sure I drown you in your own feces."

"Love you too, bye!" He held up, and I just growled in annoyance.

A little later, I could see the first guys when the shadows danced suddenly. "Over here!" I shouted. I was getting impatient as I waited for them to stop standing over there. They're busy shouting at each other when they should be trying to get out alive. Then it hit me. I hurriedly clambered up the ladder and peeked outside.

As I predicted in the middle of a group of militiamen, there's an unconscious soldier over there, and they're all debating on how to bring him down. Sighing, I shouted. "Bring him here! I'll carry him down."

They all flinched at the soothing sound of my voice, but they thankfully complied. Dragging him near the manhole, I grabbed the heavy dude over my shoulder and clambered downstairs. I left him on the sewer floor (a little filth never killed anyone), and I could tell he got a chest shot. His uniform his gone and he got rolled with bandages like a mummy. It looks terribly fatal if it weren't for the fact that he's still breathing.

Another three followed. One who looked like he got a head injury, the other had a sling over his arm, and the last was holding a bloody bandage on the side of his neck. Everyone looked at me like I'm some damn monster, and they all kept their distance away from me. I'm fine with that. I could probably help them with my Biotic Field, but I don't think they'll appreciate the relaxing sensation of molten lava in their bloodstreams, especially without their permission.

Soon, more men and women started climbing down the ladder. They all looked really scared, but at least it'll keep them in focus. After the last guy covered the manhole, I did a little headcount. That's twenty-eight, aside from the wounded. I was about to call out the senior officer until someone came up.

He was mid-aged man. His uniform looked like it was left in the attic to collect dust, his helmet was strapless and his goggles is cracked. He also has volcanic rock ebony skin, thinning hair, and has a stub of a beard. I could tell he had gone through a lot, judging by his dark hazel eyes. Other than that, he's at least fit for another fight.

"You in charge?"

He nodded solemnly. "I am not happy with it, but we appreciate if we all come back alive."

"Can't promise you that." An explosions boomed across the tunnel. Sensing that time is running out, I then said, "I'm moving on point. Keep up the pace."

With that on the way, I also asked some guys to volunteer to carry the intelligence bags for me. Afterwards, I pointed my rifle into the impending darkness. Gory then placed waypoints in my HUD. Going ahead of myself, keeping a steady pace and observing the environment, I heard the sergeant urging his men forward. So far so good, and I have to relish this peace while it last.

+1+ The SCAR-P (Special Operations Forces Combat Assault Rifle - Plasma) was a popular choice for Overwatch strike teams during the time of the Omnic Crisis. Although a magazine can house fifteen rounds, and can fire only in semi-automatic, which is a necessary precaution for the handling of the ammunition's volatile chemicals, it is still one of the most reliable anti-Omnic weapons even on this era.

+2+ All of them were ceremoniously promoted to the brig.

+3+ Other than to quell the fears of Omnics in post-Crisis era and to keep the word transcribed in the peace treaty, plasma weapons were deemed 'overkill' because it's almost impossible to treat a patient struck by a bolt of searing plasma. There is official restriction to the use, yes, but there are notable exceptions to the rule just in case the Omnics strikes back again. Hence, it is also why Torbjorn was allowed to manufacture and store some in the first place.

+4+ The insurgents may not possess any grenades, unless they were important enough or that their pilfering is successful. The others, who are militiamen, weren't given one in the first place since they are in charge in defense only. Although, that's normally not a reason enough to _not_ hand them some. But there was a shortage of munitions at that night.

+5+ Numbani doesn't have a population dense enough to deter affectivity of the waste disposal system. Now, less more so.

+6+ He couldn't possibly smell that because he still has his mask on. He may be imagining the smell due to the presence of the bodies.

* * *

I stopped for the eighth time so they could catch up. There's one guy who hasn't woken up yet, so I could understand. Another thought came to mind is that they're too scared of me. That too I could understand. We weren't using any flashlights since there's some light coming from above, so that can't be the case. I'm not convinced on that line of logic either.

I did notice that some of them are running out of breath despite the fact we're just marching. Could've been a long time since they last exercised, and the militia has been and at 'em the whole night. I might have to assign them to light duty when the time comes.

Later, big horns ran to my side. "How far is it?"

I rolled my shoulders in order to ease the tenseness. "The meet-up's just another mile. You guys can walk that far, right?"

He gave me a scowl. "My men needs rest. We have been marching none stop for the past two hours."

Crap, has it been that long? My timer said so in my HUD. I looked up and saw light stabbing down from the holes. No sun. must be really cloudy today, but I know it's up there. We _did_ took a lot of turns to avoid the blocked parts of the sewer. I turned to the sergeant. "I'll give you ten. Gonna scout around up top, and I want all of you to be ready to move out by the time I got back."

He gave the halt sign, and I could hear the people behind me sighing in relief. He then faced me. "Are you going to contact command? I want to speak to them too."

I checked my comms. "No can do. We're right under jamming tech." I faced up to see a hole big enough for a man to fit. "Don't be too lonely without me." And with that, I jumped up and hanged on the edge for a while. Pulling myself up so that my head could pop up. It doesn't look good.

There were a lot of people, possibly AFHL deserters, running under the sun. Some of them are lighting up trash bins in order to have some heat source to battle the morning winds. Others were sleeping on rags. The AFHL's regime +1+, I guess. I don't know if they are affiliated with them anymore, because I don't think a commander like Doomfist would leave useful men behind, or would set up a defense this sloppy.

If they still are under his palm, I can't risk taking them on. They all have arms of some kind. Dropping down to the floor, everyone looked at me thinking that the ten minutes was too short. "I'll look up ahead," I reassured them, and they all went back eating their rations.

I took myself out of the area and walked around a bit. It's kinda pointless scouting the tunnels since my sensors can do a better job, but I gotta give the boys a breather at least. Halfway through, I saw another one of Torbjorn's auto-cannons. Mostly intact, it's listing to one side and smells like burnt plastic. "Scan this, will ya?" I told to Gory.

"Scanning… scanning… I think we have bingo."

"Really?" I dropped down to my knees near the turret. Touching the red paint, I opened the hidden compartment leading to its mechanical intestines. "It looks like you're right." Like modern day weapons, Torbjorn's turrets was also fitted with fail-safes in case it shuts downs. I was hoping the microwave grenades would destroy the failsafe before it activated, and this might be one of them.

I reached down my pocket and started unscrewing the chassis. If I remember all those nagging that midget gave me decades back, we could finally have ammunition for the mini-turret that the militia was carrying. "What are you doing?" someone said behind me.

I turned my head to see the sergeant, and then I went back to my work. "Requisitioning," I simply said to him.

"That's… alright." I could tell from the tone of his voice that he's nervous.

Removing the ammo belt, I asked, "Should you be with your platoon?" I slung it over my shoulder and stood up.

He scratched the back of his head. "Well, I, in behalf of my men, apologize for our… transgressions." He shrugged. "It has been hours ago since our beloved lieutenant passed away. I'm all that stands in the survival of our platoon, and it has been hard on me."

I nodded. "I can relate to that. Was an… officer once before committing to the mercenary life. I… lost too damn much, but at least you got a whole platoon keeping you company." I armed my plasma rifle and shot the empty turret three times to finish the job.

Gory then chimed, "It's been ten minutes now, by the way."

"That does not sound comforting," he replied as we both started back to our group.

"Yeah, it wasn't meant to. Having that many people on your head must be very, I don't know, stressful."

"It's not that. It's because they actually let you have any kind of authority at all. Let alone trust you."

I looked back at him, and I could see where he's getting at. "How do you know? You don't know me. You weren't there."

"They said-"

"Tabloids don't count."

He shook his head. "Then you deny all those deaths around the globe+2+"?

"Can't prove it, but I'll have to stick to 'I didn't do it'." I don't want to argue with this man any longer. I only wanted to go and kill Doomfist already, and I'm mostly patient with my kills.

"If you are innocent, why don't you just tell the world so?"

"The world's main concern right now is to **string** me." I turned my head to him again. "You wanna string me up?"

He scoffed. "You're helping us escape. I don't want to kill you until then."

He's starting to tick me off. "Laugh while you still can. You're all going to be diced when this day ends."

He stopped following all of a sudden. "Excuse me?"

Well, screw it. It has been hours the last time I completed my objective. These guys have been deadweight from the first minute I laid eyes on them, and I don't think more manpower would compensate me, or the whole plan, for being late. Might as well cut them loose while I still have a chance, and I have to mentally kick myself for not doing it sooner.

"You heard me." I stopped to face him as well. "What? You think all of you are going to be safe once we get all of you back to your buddies? Sorry to burst your bubble, but all of you are conscripted for one more heavy duty. Very important stuff, I heard."

His face contorted into anger. "Then what is so important that they have to drag us in?"

I crossed my arms. "Doomfist." This time, his eyes turned big as saucers. "Convoy I'm hooking you up with? It's going down the street into AFHL territory, and we—yes, you will have the grace of fighting with me—will go and shoot Doomfist in the face. Not the arms, not the legs, not the spine. Face."

He brought up his rifle at me. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"Why blame me? I'm just here to get paid." I _wish_ I can get paid, but that's just asking too much, is it.

I could see cold sweat running down his face. "What about the private you're trying to find?"

I shrugged "I'm not stupid. He's probably out there rotting out there in a garbage dump or something. I'll pick his body up later. I mean, it's not like it's going anywhere. That said, I decided play along with your superior's games. Doomfist _does_ have a pretty penny up his head."

"But he's in-"

"Rumors doesn't count either."

He tilted his head. "Are you saying you can kill him?"

I chuckled. "I might as well did and be swimming in dough right about now. Fact is that I could have him shot a thousand different ways once I hit the field +3+."

"How can you be sure?"

"I got a gun that can do the job." I showed him my HPR.

"Then if you are so confident, why do you need us for?"

"The real question is, why not?" I waved my arms around me. "We're already here. Might as well finish it."

He lowered his gun and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We could always escape. There's no money gained by killing us."

"There isn't. You could try though. Technically, since there's no official orders +4+, so I wouldn't call it deserting. But where do you think you're going? This place is a rat maze without me. And if you must know, there're hundreds of AFHL crawling in every crack on the city above us."

"I'm still going to risk it!" His eyes are defiant. "I will get this platoon out of this city alive."

I raised my brow. "You're just going to drag your men to an even quicker death."

He quickly aimed his sights at me. "And death by the hands of Doomfist is any better?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Does it matter how? We're all going to die if this op fails, so why don't you just join the bandwagon and see on how we could do this together."

"I can't! I…" He lowered his gone again, his eyes averting mine. "I promised that I'm going to return them to their families." His eyes started watering when he looked into my visors. "You have to understand, I promised!"

"Naïve crap like that doesn't fit in times of war. You know more than anyone that all of you aren't leaving this place unscathed."

He fell silent for a moment, brushing his tears away and then walked passed me. "We at least have to try."

"To what end? You're all doomed out there the minute you stop following me."

"I'm going to lead them. Even if I'm wrong and I get them all killed—no." He shook his head. "I won't be wrong. We are all making it out alive. They… they deserve to."

I watched him go. "Even if the path ahead of you isn't clear and full of traps, you'll still risk your life to keep them all together. Huh." He didn't reply. "Hey, hold up." I ran for him.

"We got nothing to discuss."

"Actually, we have one. I could draw you a map." He stopped and gave me a surprised look. "It'll lead you back to home base. I'll give it to you under one condition."

His face turned quizzical. "…What is it?"

"You have to ask for volunteers for our last mission, and you have to clear out that there's no turning back. I want them to be committed and follow every orders we give them. No forcing it or anything."

He scratched the back of his head. "Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged again. "Can't go there empty handed." He waited for more. "And, uh, let's just say that you remind me of someone."

"Is it you?"

I laughed, genuinely this time. "God, no. But you're pretty close." I held out my arm. "Shake on it?"

He looked at me, and then at my hand, at me, then back at my hand. He took it. "I'll… I'll wish all of you the best of luck."

"Who says anything about luck? I told you, he's as good as dead."

+1+ Many believed that the AFHL's goal was to create as much destruction in Numbani as much as possible just as 76 had predicted rather than straight up occupation. This is of course not the first time they have gone and done these actions. It is possible that they were there to show strength and to collect raw recruits. Because of poor communication due to Doomfist's offensive, these people were left stranded without orders. Or they acted like they don't have any orders.

+2+ 76's watch is wide, but not _that_ wide. Additionally, several of the cases those sightings of Soldier: 76 are contradicting each other. It's as simple as asking 'How did he committed these crimes at fourteen different places at the same time?'

+3+ Lesser, since the PSA is gone.

+4+ Torbjorn isn't one to begin with. They just look up to him because he's a legendary figure from Overwatch. He's a weapon designer, but still very legendary.


	11. Chapter 11

As we were marching forward deeper into the tunnels, I often asked myself, 'Am I confident that I could kill Doomfist?' After hearing myself out loud in front of the dear sergeant, I kinda think it was foolish for me to think that way. I had to convince him to part some eager men from his platoon.

Looking quickly behind me, I could tell that they're ready to kill, without a doubt. I'm surprised that I got eight to stay with me. As parting gifts, the platoon gave them their best guns, the mini-turret included, and almost all of their ammunition. I don't know what's in their mind when they stood up with me. Duty, mission, initiative, nihilism, pure unreasoning anger, whichever it is, it's for themselves to decide. They want to see this through, and I'm sure damned if I don't take them with me.

Gory then chimed, "We're here!"

I held out my arm. "Stay put. I'll scout ahead." I climbed till my chin is above the hole. Once I got under the dim clouds, I looked out at the barren and ruined roads. It's all empty in this area, but my visors detected human presence just outside my vicinity. IFF tells that they're friendly. Putting my communicator up, I called Torbjorn. "Cyclops, this is Prawn. Check your fire; we're at the southeast of your position, over."

"This is Cyclops," came the reply. "We acknowledge. There's a van near the parking lot just a little away from your position. We'll meet there, over."

Acknowledging, I turned my head downward and yelled, "Alright, get up and fall on my six!"

Once we got our mini-turret out of the hole, the rest of the men came out soon after. They all formed under a bus stop and then quickly checked their guns. As soon as they're done, I ordered them to go ahead and meet up with the rest of the kill team. Acknowledging me, I watched them all go to a nearby building.

For this final moment, I wish them luck; that they won't let themselves be taken alive, and that they won't make me regret for allowing them to be too brave.

I also went on my way by going into the parking lot that Torbjorn told me about earlier. Amidst all of the cars either wrecked or smoking, there was one pristine van in the middle of it. Don't need to knock this time. They must have seen me coming from the windows because Torbjorn and Angela exited the vehicle by the time I stepped into the lot. Angela was looking as disheveled as ever when she came out, all with a new set of eye bags.

She lit up when she saw me though. "You're late!" she said, and I cheekily rubbed my hed.

Torbjorn, however, looks like he wants to kill. Me, specifically. Without a complicating things further, I handed him his prized PSA. He gasped and started to tear his hair out once he got the sight of it. I just shrugged and said, "I'm sorry?"

"Do ye have ANY idea on how boned we are?!" he screamed.

I crossed my arms. "Okay, let's try not to cry over this. Can we just get over the plan without the device?"

Angela started, with a little anger in her voice. "That _device_ was supposed to help us prevent any more casualties."

"It can't now," stating the obvious. I looked at Torbjorn's almost tearing face as he rubbed the burnt plastic. "Look, can we discuss it somewhere less open? We don't want to get sniped now, do we?"

After a brief moment, Torbjorn finally sighed and said, "Fine." He then walked towards the van. "Follow me."

Closing the door once we're all inside, I sat down in front of them. There's another TOI inside this thing as well, but it looks ancient. Web cracks and wear are all over the place. It's a wonder that it could still function. Leaning forward, I could see a little blue orb amongst the pink and red pudding. The rest of the map? I think it is best not to overthink about it.

"It's hopeless," Torbjorn said all of a sudden. "It's impossible to fix it." He was fiddling with the little box.

"Then let's not," I replied with a hint of annoyance. "Remember the fight with the original Doomfist? On the part that we tried to delay him?"

"I wasn't there that time," Angela admitted, her hand holding her chin. "But I remembered the mission. Doomfist heard that Overwatch was coming, so he decided to attack you directly by shutting down your plane."

I nodded, remembering that moment. "Me and a couple of my command staff survived that crash, but he didn't stop there. Doomfist was hell bent on finishing us off that he crossed international borders in order to reach our crash site +1+."

Torbjorn waved at us. "We've heard that story many times +2+. What's the point?"

"Point is that I almost broke through Doomfist's shields, without the PSA. I just happen to ran out of ammo before Winston came with the reinforcements."

"And you still don't," Torbjorn pointed out, pocketing his precious. "What? Ye think I have any spare batteries for you?"

"I imagine that you don't," I admitted. "But you said it yourself that this Doomfist is even weaker than the last one, right?"

He scratched his beard. "That was an estimation. The weapon he wields is a sad copy of its predecessor, yet it's not to be underestimated."

"He's using that thing for the whole night," Angela supported me. "Is it possible that he's running low now? If the reports are right, he hasn't enough time to recharge it."

"It's no problem if it were the real thing," Torbjorn warmed to the idea. "But… Grr! Everything would be easier if the Amplifier's in one piece!"

"But will it work?" I asked again, refocusing on the task at hand. "I know they naturally negate each other, but both of them uses energy. I just need to last longer."

He rubbed his head. "How many batteries do you have left?"

"Five. That's a hundred and twenty-five pulse shots."

He nodded. "If you could land all those shots-"

"They already did," I said, tapping my visor.

"Then are we to resume the mission?" Angela asked.

After a brief moment, he sighed and tapped the TOI. "It's too late now to test on how strong his shields are. Meaning, we need to kill him in one go." He then looked at both of us. "We'll follow the plan. Any complications on the way, we wing it."

I clapped my hands. "Then, shall we?"

+1+ Specifically, Doomfist and his entourage used transport helicopters to cross international airspace.

+2+ It was one of the most celebrated and historical battles in Overwatch because alongside Doomfist's defeat, the era of strife within in Africa ended as well.

* * *

In this one time as I'm looking over the city through this window, I had a funny thought that this would be good time to call Overwatch. Too bad. Instead, we got a very sane vigilante, a furry dwarf with swiveling cameras that have guns attached to it, and a very depressed combat medic. A perfect team for the perfect job!

While I contemplated on how far are we going to kick this bucket, Gory chimed in. "76?"

I backed away from the window and back into the dark dusty hallway before replying. "Something bothering you?"

The building shook. It's beginning. "You said earlier that you're low on ammo, right?"

"There's nothing we could do about that, I'm afraid." I crouched down as soon as I heard the first popping noise from outside. "We have to make do with what we have left." I'll be using the plasma rifle for the most part of the journey.

"Well…"

"Well, what?"

My armor paused. "Do you, uh, mind if we have lesser shields later on?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it straining you too much?"

"It's not that. We have as much power as before, but… well, would you consider?"

"I've lived throughout my career without them +1+. You have a plan?"

"It means expending all of our fuel on this final attack. We'll temporarily lose our shields afterwards, but I think it's worth the risk."

"Explain." This is going to be interesting. I checked my visor one last time before hearing my AI out. They're going at it earlier than expected, meaning that it's either they're crushing or there wasn't any resistance in the AFHL's part. My part's going to start soon.

"Basically, I'm going to stream all the shields into your HPR to supplement the ammo count. You could continually fire the rifle without needing to reload. I found a way to convert Orgone into raw electricity, and since you're always surrounded by it when wearing me, I could manipulate them into the gun once you tell me to."

I rubbed my chin. "Hmm… How many shots are we talking about?"

"Five to six seconds worth."

"So… sixty +2+?" That would be a huge turnaround if we get into a pinch. I nodded, and I quickly looked outside when something exploded. When it's not of any threat to us, I resumed. "Okay, what's the catch? How many times can we use this?"

"The catch is that we have to ventilate the rifle in between shots. I've already inserted preset settings for your rifle to force vent as if it's expending a magazine. Exactly, for every twenty-five shots. Remember, it'll take time to get the shields back. But when they do, we could do another six seconds again. As for the frequency of the usage, I guess until all our power is depleted."

"Be specific," I pressed.

"Estimated power consumption would result in three attempts."

About ten per cent each? I don't know about this, but think about the payoff. This'll likely be more than enough to break through his shields! A shield for a shield, huh? "Why didn't you tell us before? How come Torbjorn hadn't told me about this?"

Gory fell silent. "I started formulating the process as soon as you said that we have an ammo problem. It popped into my thought course on the best solution moments ago. And it's only a hypothesis."

"You mean it wasn't programmed beforehand?"

"I don't think so. Torbjorn never told me that I was about to be worn by you +3+, 76."

That just left me with a scary thought. "In any case, nice find. How do I activate it again?"

"Just tell me!" it cheerily answered. "I'll wait for your cue."

With the reassurance with this new plan, I hefted my plasma rifle and leaned towards the window again. The AFHL down below are gunning to their defensive positions. MG emplacements and AT rocket posts are prepped to kill whatever's coming from the streets ahead. They were quick to man the bags despite their exhaustion.

There's got to be dozens of them crawling down there. Gory informed me that the assault convoy is approaching fast. I need to wait until the last moment before I let this snowball roll. Aiming my rifle, I waited for the first shot and ran the objective in my head once again.

The plan is simple: 1) A kill team (figurative in name) will go to the enemy HQ , annihilate all opposition and destroy key targets. This includes their main mode of communications, their fuel cells, their ammunition dumps, and anything noteworthy. Torbjorn spent the whole morning triangulating the location of their main base of operations. Having only few radio bandwidths to sift through due to the blackout, it was easy for him. My only part of this plan is to infiltrate enemy lines and dismantle the hardest chokepoint, which is right down there below me.

2) Wait and kill Doomfist in cold blood. Once we've taken the HQ, the kill team will do their best and hold onto that little foothold as long as possible. After that victory alone, we would have successfully broken the enemy's coordination, and if Doomfist doesn't save face soon, then all their hard work would go down the drain, along with the thousands he sent to die here in Numbani. It'll be on his head, and the AFHL's name would be tarnished. He _has_ to come here if he wants to have a successful career in the future.

And with that assumption, I'll be the one pulling the trigger. Quick and hard. Regretfully, it's going to be a battle of brute force. Whichever runs out first, my ammo or his shield, would be declared the victor. Not just that, I need to place my shots while he's in the open, and I have to place them all carefully. Each miss would widen the gap between our terms of success. This is our lifeline now. Whatever happens… it better hope it's on our side.

I immediately heard the AFHL firing first. A stream of rockets flew into the other side of the block. Machine guns soon followed, and then rifle fire. They're currently reloading the rockets, but this time, I strike back. My first shot went wide, hitting the sandbags and letting everyone and their mother knows where I am.

My visor helped me calculate the trajectory, and when I fired again, a fool got his chest blown wide open. Bullets started to smack against the concrete and smashing the rest of the window. I leaned back to the side to prevent myself from getting hit. I need to preserve my shield if we're going to follow Gory's strategy.

"Come on, come on," I taunted as I cleared the rocket posts. I followed my surprise attack at the MGs next since they're also a threat. I made sure I poke a hole on the gun itself to prevent people from using it again.

My vision turned green all of a sudden as I felt the lucky shot that was directed to my left arm. I pushed my back against the wall as the firing intensified. At least they're busier on shooting at me rather than focusing on the convoy. But I have to return fire soon or else they'll lose interest.

By the time I popped back out to let out some light, I noticed people rushing through the doors downstairs. They're now coming after me. It doesn't matter to me because they all left their post, which is the most important part of step 1.

"Gory," I called out. "Arm the claymores."

Moments later, the floors below me shook as the AP (Anti-Personnel) mines detonated. "First floor clear, but sensors showed that they're still moving up. I count fourteen."

"Hmm…" I wasn't expecting them to persevere after that shock, but it shows their resolve. "Keep me posted at the last second." When the fire lessened, I took my time and took a shot outside, mostly focusing on the people running for the rocket launchers. I ducked back in as soon as I took a single shot. They're taking a lot of manpower in order to suppress me.

Ii would be fine if I could contribute this much to the team, but I also need to keep an eye on the RPGs. With this amount of suppression, I can't do anything while I'm in this opening. Should I move to find another vantage point?

While I was deciding which bedroom I'm going to bust into, the ceiling shook. I turned around to see a smoke trail. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that they're hell bent on taking me out, even if it means they have to use rockets to blow me out of my cubbyhole.

Feeling their sights lining up on me, I jumped and dived backwards. Immediately after hitting the ground, I covered my head. Like the mini-bombs from the sewer attacks, I again felt the intense and painful pressure from the explosions behind me. It felt like the full weight of an elephant stomping me for a flat second.

With the hail of debris out of the way, I waved off the dust clouds. "How are we on the shields?"

Gory chimed. "I didn't activate it at that moment. Was it the right call?"

"It was. Guh!" I think a brick cracked a rib. "Good job." My personal anguish in exchange for the success of the mission. You can't beat that kind of bargain. I looked behind to see a giant smoking hole. The window, the walls and the floor are all gone. And they still kept on firing. With this amount of lead, it could mean that there's still more targets for me to shoot.

Crawling at the edge of the new hole, I fired downrange while on prone. I can't let it end like this. "76," Gory called. "They have disarmed the claymores on the second floor. They're currently just one more story away from our current position."

"Can you tell when's the convoy coming in?!" I screamed over the fusillade. They managed to turn a working MG at my direction, but I won't give in just yet. I bet they couldn't get the angle right.

Just as I finished asking the question, I heard the ever-familiar tank shot. The sandbags blew apart into a mini-sandstorm. It was then that the Tsahv hovered over the shambled defenses, letting out its flaming MG turrets at the survivors.

The hover tank kept moving in a steady gait, and behind it are fifteen hummers and four IFVs filled to the brim with Numbani's very own kill team +4+. One conga line of pure death and metal, driving through. They crushed everything that is in their wake with their hull-mounted turrets. I could spot one of the Humvees has the mini-turret on top of its roof, now upgraded enough to serve as a menace. Torbjorn made a fine job, but will it be enough?

"Our job here is done," I declared as I head my way for the exit strategy at the other side of the hallway.

"Are you sure they don't need any more fire support?" Gory asked.

"They'll do fine on their own." I hopped over the window and into the fire escape ladder. "Besides, we need to get on our seats. This show is going to be a blast."

+1+ Let us assume that he's talking about his vigilante 'career'. During his days in Overwatch, however, he was one of the first wearers when portable shields were prototyped. It was the size of a stuffed backpack back then, which he is displeased with because it is such a big target.

+2+ The Heavy Pulse Rifle fires at 10 rps (rounds per second) in full auto.

+3+ More specifically, it was meant to be worn by Torbjorn alone. Without the Gargoyle AI, of course.

+4+ Clearly more than a 'team'.

* * *

Now that step one is almost over, we're getting ready for step two. Can't do step one without doing step two, right? Do I sound nervous? Good grief, maybe? This feels like I'm pitching for the championships. Bottom of the ninth. Two outs, runners on first and third, and a single pitch could cost us the game. This time though, I need something more than a fastball for this inning.

For now, the world around me is dark. I lay there prone on the dirty alley with a tarpaulin covering me, and I could feel the pitter-patter from the rain outside. They're chanting in preparation for the battle ahead. As tempting the bloodlust can be, I need to wait for Torbjorn so he could tell me if the prey is within our noose. Just a little longer. Just a little… longer.

Along with the subtle drumbeats, I could hear rapid footsteps passing by me. All hostile. Gory told me the AFHL's has thrown their fifth wave in order to retake their base. The grimy ground rumbled as I felt a heavy vehicle following suit. Veterans and armored support, I think. In any case, they're definitely giving their last leg to soften us up before Doomfists arrives to deliver the final blow. But knowing Torbjorn, I hardly doubt it.

"Nnng!" I grunted when something exploded outside. I braced again for the secondary explosion. Probably the ammo cooking off. Once it settled down to a head-on firefight, I asked, "Anything this time?"

"EM sensors are showing negative," Gory reported.

Figures. "How are the others doing?"

"Perimeter is still holding. We lost an IFV and a three Humvees. No exact casualty count, but it's mounting. Also, the Tsahv is bingo on ammo +1+."

So far so good. I squeezed my plasma rifle to ease my tensions. "Okay. Keep me posted, will ya?"

I let my chin rest on the ground again. "Roger that."

Torbjorn could be trusted on ensuring a formidable defense. The reason why we never promoted him with an actual rank back in Overwatch because he's too good to be removed from the R&D Dept. He knows how to position firing lanes, rotate resupply drops, and manage an efficient defense layout. Only thing missing from him is the tactical prowess of aggression +2+.

And Mercy, which I'm still regretting on letting her coming along, was a tremendous help from what I heard in the radio. What we lack for inexhaustible numbers, we compensate for tenacity. How do you fight an army if their soldiers keep getting back up after a shot to the chest +3+? With Mercy, and the unanimous consent for the best treatment in exchange for anus-puckering pain, we got a huge lead.

But now, it was time to build up a momentum. Two outs, runners on first and third. Just a little longer…

"76!" Gory chimed. Judging by the heat on my chest, I instantly knew what it was about to say next. I jumped out of the tarpaulin before Gory could finish its sentence. "I got a huge reading just near us!"

"Tell Torbjorn and set a waypoint," I ordered. A tiny red diamond appeared from my visors. I exited the alleyway with my plasma rifle pointed forward. Rain tickled my hair, and yet it's soothing. At my immediate right, I could see infantry firefighting behind the parked cars and broken debris. Bullets are flying, but at least they haven't seen me yet.

Finding the manhole that I propped up before the battle, I jumped down. There's still human limbs lying here and there, but there's no time to think about who's who. I'm on the clock and I need to be running. Now away from the rain and into the darkness I go, I could feel my head cooling rapidly from the wind.

I don't know if the tango's on foot or on wheels since the last ping would only go so far. Nonetheless, I have to hurry. Running into a corner, I stopped there when I heard the echoing footfalls. With my back against the sewer walls, I leaned outside to see a stream of insurgents trying to sneak their way through the heavier fighting.

I also realized that all of them are in my way from the manhole that I need to climb for a better position. I propped it up ahead of time and everything, and they're all underneath it. I expected this to happen, but I had not predicted the volume of it. With the whole plan on the line, I'm on the clock on how I handle them. There's no time for me to find another route because the last sighting would go cold soon.

While crouched, I shifted slowly on to the side and took aim. "Easy does it," I murmured. Letting my breath out, I squeezed the trigger. The guy didn't have a throat to scream in pain with.

Everyone else lent their voices for vengeance, quicker than I have expected. I kept firing and firing in the tunnels, blasting the walls through and the gunners behind it, hoping that I could spur them to go away and let them focus on their objectives. Without realizing it, I'm having a hard time pushing them away even after I smoked the fifth one.

Huddled behind the corners, they fired ruthlessly as they pull their wounded to safety. They're all pumped with adrenaline and are clearly battle-hardened judging on how focused they are after receiving casualties.

I need to crush their hopes right here, right now. Grabbing for the frag grenade on my belt, I thumbed the activation switch and optimized it to bounce one time before detonating. I threw it with my left arm and watched it ricochet behind them. There was no time to cherish the kills as I was doing setting up the next pitch.

After the fourth bomb, they all stopped firing but kept screaming their ears off. I still aimed my sights on the corners to give the lucky person a plasma bolt to the face. I waited for at least a minute before I noticed them going quiet. The receding footfalls told me that they began retreating, which I murmured on that moment, "You better run."

Carefully walking over the recent battleground, I maintained my concentration for the next guy to pop up. The only things that are close to human are the corpses laid around the river of waste. They all left their dead behind. Besides the smell of rotting rat, there's also carbide and bacon too +4+. After sorting out that there's no danger anymore, I climbed up the ladder. And if there is someone alive around this mess, we'll just have to come back and finish them off later.

It didn't take long for everything to crash into me when I resurfaced. The cacophony of bullet impacts, the screech of burning tires, the barks of desperate orders, the ear splitting artillery, and more importantly, the cheers of the heavy rain. I'd feel so lonely without it. It's a bloodbath and the cheering will grow even louder, but I know the show has to stop. Runners on first and third.

There's also static in my ear. "Prawn!" Torbjorn shouted as soon we patched up. "You copy?!"

"Crystal, over!" I shouted back, taking cover behind a car rapidly as a technical turned into this street.

"Where the hell have ye been?! We got a steady reading of Doomfist close—wait a minute, are you already there?!"

I looked into my map. "I got your data!" Ping's at give blocks away and moving slowly. "Torbjorn!"

"Firing artillery now," he immediately declared calmly. "That'll slow him a bit."

"But it's not going to stop him." I kept my head low as I let the enemy vehicle pass through me. "I need back up if I need to keep him in one place. Can you send me a detachment?"

"Will do. It's time to end this, 76. What're yer orders?"

"Get them to—CRAP!" They saw me!

Screeching abruptly just a few feet away from me, the gunner swiveled his MG into my direction. Without thinking, I dived underneath the technical, cutting his line of sight. It drove forward, trying to bereave me of protection and let the gunner take me out. I didn't let them. Raising my gun from my prone form, I shot my plasma bolts and punched through the truck bed.

A moment later, a loud bump followed right after. I smiled inwardly. There were screams of panic from the driver's seat. He threw open his door and made a break for it, but I didn't let him. Quickly shifting my weight, the first shot went wide and blew his left arm open. The next finished him off with a blast behind his head.

I shifted my weight again, but the passenger ran away cleanly. Sighing, I knew that this doesn't matter now. One man can't stop this killing machine.

"Prawn! Prawn!" Torbjorn called. "Are ye still there?!"

"Just chalking up another one," I calmly said as I crawled out of the truck. "Tell everyone to rally on me." I reloaded and cocked the rifle. "Time to get military."

+1+ Tanks, even today, is still restricted to their ammo rack. Torbjorn has foreseen this and brought extras, but that too isn't enough.

+2+ There is irony, and there is also irony.

+3+ Not when they're dead they can't.

+4+ Once again, he is merely imagining the smell. He knows what the fragrance of burning flesh from experience.

* * *

I bashed through a door of an apartment complex. Or what's left of it. Ignoring how roofless this building is, I quickly closed the door. It won't stop the bullets following me, but at least it'll give me more time to do this. "Last one," I said as I stabbed a claymore a few feet away from the entrance. I wiped the rainwater from my visors, ignoring the redundancy of it.

Quickly turning around to avoid the imminent blast, I took cover behind a lounge couch at the other side of the hallway and aimed my gun on the doors. They're shooting at it freely, but no one's impatient enough to open it. I made a quick glance on the windows beside me. The street that Doomfist is using is somewhere around here. I only need to wait for the moving red diamond to get into this position.

"Cyclops," I called from my communicator. "I need that backup now."

The other line cackled open. "We're already pushi—Gah!" I could hear a bullet panging from the other side. "We're encountering a renewed resistance here!"

"From where?" I can't think of any place to get this much reinforcements.

"Everywhere." I could hear tires screeching and distant booms. "The AFHL fighting from the main lines are all pulling back."

"That sounds-"

"Right for us!" That sounds good _and_ bad.

"How touching." I noticed that my pursuers gone quiet. "Wish I had troops that would fight and die for me." I took my best guess and let out a volley of bolts on the wall beside the door.

"Actually, my sources said they want to kill Doomfist. Something about 'being unfit for leadership'." I ducked down as they returned fire. At least the door is holding.

"Yeah, I would too."

"There are already people claiming to be the new general there, multiple successors. Some actually believed Doomfist is dead and that they sent their best men to finish the job. I don't know if the sources are honest or hopeful speculation +1+. To me, it sounds like a lot of cut throating, but that's fine by us." I could imagine him grinning from ear to ear. "Problem now is that anyone with a short-range radio is now converging on us. Whether they're here to save their fearless leader, or to dethrone him, it is still bad news."

Still, that means that even if Doomfist wins this day, the damage has been irreparable. They lost their senior officers, their two communications hub, and a lot of boys. Whatever's left would be fighting for themselves at this point.

"We took better chances," I chided. "But the objective doesn't change. We have a chance to kill Doomfist now, closer than anybody does."

"I hate last stands."

"You're speaking to the pro. I'll lead the way."

He scoffed. "Sure, whatever. We'll be there in a bit. Just hold position. Over and out."

"Over and out," I signed off.

They finally tore the door down. This time with a grenade. The first guy who rushed in got shredded by the claymore. I mentally kicked myself for positioning that mine poorly. Two more followed him, but I ended them as soon as they passed the portal. And then I heard beeping. Cursing, I hunkered down checked my beeping rifle.

"76!" Gory alerted. "It's fused! +2+"

"I can see that." Judging by the damage, it's unmaintainable without the spare parts +3+. Well, I didn't want it to explode on my face anyway +4+. Laying the gun down on the floor, respecting it as it did its part, I switched to my trusty HPR. At least this one has lesser dangers to begin with +5+.

Suddenly, from outside a window, an enemy BMP drove at the intersection and began disembarking soldiers. Cream of the crop, definitely. They're all wearing riot gear and some of them are armed with energy weapons. I have a feeling on what they're purpose here is, because they're all positioning to secure the area.

One thing is for sure, both my pursuers and the new comers wants a piece of me. Once the two sides agreed to something, they both combined their fire on my direction, forcing me out of my cover. That was decent couch. I'll be sure to pay them back tenfold for that, personally.

I ran into the end of the hallway, which led me to a hole. Hastily moving behind the wall once I'm in the street, I turned around to return fire, one shot at a time. Half-powered lasbolts pocked and fizzled around the edges of the hole, but I stayed calm and picked my shots carefully.

"HVT (High Value Target) fast approaching!" Gory alarmed me.

Stopping everything, I saw dozens of men coming from another street, surrounding someone familiar. Doomfist, the one who started it all, and the one who could possibly end it, is in the middle of the gaggle of men. I've finally caught up with him. They were running and shooting from the street they came from, and they haven't seen me yet, possibly due the smoke and rain. Checking my surrounding, I followed them.

As I was turning into a corner, the BMP moved up and opened its hatch to receive its leader.

"They're getting away!" Gory shouted.

I ran into position, down in a crater in the middle of the road and propped my HPR on the edges. Bottom of the ninth. Two outs, runners on first on third. Full count. A single pitch could cost us the game. The batter can hit back anything straight and meaty. What do I do? Thinking about it, I started bending my hip to raise my gun. What do I do? I'll throw in my best pitch.

Launching the mix of rockets, Ufuoma Moses noticed the sound before anyone else can. He raised his metallic hand as if it could make the rockets halt. He could very well do that, but this time, it's not so simple. An invisible ripple formed around him, and the rockets started to bend. Noticing it too late, Doomfist threw himself to the ground while everybody else opened fire at me.

They were all down as the BMP blew up. This is my best pitch: a curve ball. The rockets, attracted by Doomfist's magnetic field, bent on his shield's apex, forcing it to fly downward and into the BMP's open hatch. No tank in the world could resist an explosion from the inside out. This caused the troop carrier to explode, and set everyone in its vicinity bleeding or ablaze.

And yet, the guy can still stand. I was already emptying my batteries as he dumbly looked around the destruction that I caused. None of my shots seems to faze him, but he looked horrified enough. I don't know what's in his mind as his rescue was cut short, but I could always recognize the face of pure unrelenting anger.

There was no monologue, no showy introduction, no sad back-story to explain his motivations. There was only the one punch that I need to dodge right away. From a distance, he launched a shockwave of rippling energy directly to me. I dove a second too late as my legs were caught within the blast. The pain, _excruciating_. I recognize the molten fire that is microwaves.

"This is no time for resting," a voice said. I was about to pull out my biotic emitter so I could heal myself, but then I could feel the familiar jab of pain on my legs. It quickly numbed and soothing. Looking up, I followed a glowing beam tethered to Mercy's staff. She glided down with her wings erect like a white petal falling. I have never been so happy in my entire life.

Landing near me, her face anxious, she grabbed my arm bristly and pulled me back inside the crater. I sat upright just to get a bearing on what's happening. "How the hell-" I began as soon as I could feel my legs again, but I was immediately cut off when a stream of rockets and tracer fire erupted from the way she flew from. My visors adjusted through the foggy noon and saw friendly infantry and vehicles shooting at Doomfist's direction.

This _too_ could be the happiest moment in my life.

"Soldier!" Torbjorn shouted, not in the line this time. He jumped into the crater, his Rivet Gun blazing. "He's right in front of you! Why aren't ye shooting?!"

I held up my hand. "Just taking a breather." I positioned myself back at the edge of the crater and saw Doomfist and a few others shooting behind the wreckages near them. While he's there firing his lasrifle, I could also see reinforcements coming from the other streets. I activated my visor's aim stabilizer and began chipping his shields, all shots finding their mark All three of us are firing at him with everything we got.

"Take out his cover!" I demanded while I ejected the spent battery.

"Right on it!" Torbjorn answered, donning his welding mask and slapping his chest. He shouted, "MOLTEN CORE!" as his personal forge on his back was set ablaze. Behind us, the turrets atop the Humvees and troop carriers activated their subsystems, letting them fire faster and shoot a plethora of rockets +6+.

The result was devastating. The rockets not only blew up the street, but also tore up the buildings around the target area. It was almost endless, and Torbjorn kept firing his goblets of hot metal there, laughing. Nobody could survive this, but someone inside the fireworks does. Doomfist is still standing, and he looks really pissed.

When he started running for us, shrugging off anything that would have killed a man, I told to Gory, "I need your help, now!"

"POWER OVERWHELMING," it said as my gun started to glow green. Without second thoughts, I pulled down the trigger. His shields rippled even more, giving me a glint of hope. That hope was dashed away when he's at spitting distance and my gun suddenly stopped firing.

I tried dodging out of his way, but after he passed through me, he raised his arm and smashed the ground. All of us were up in the air by then. I felt so weightless, and when I fell I felt that the ground was somewhat far, judging by the pain on my back.

When the dust settled, I took my time to stand up and noticed that Doomfist singlehandedly blew up the entire road and sent us into the sewers again. For fear that our enemy is somewhere near, I was determined to stand again and to reload my rifle. "Are you guys all right?!" I cried out, and I sighed in relief when I saw Mercy gliding down next to me, looking more shocked than usual.

"Are you?" she breathlessly asked. We both looked up to observe that the fighting is still going on topside.

"I'm fine." I

wiped the rainwater from my visor. "We need to fin-"

"Where the—where did I put it?" I heard Torbjorn complaining from a distance. He was still in his fiery state, but it looks like he dropped his Rivet Gun.

"Behind you!" Mercy warned him at the same time I was raising my gun. I sent out burst of pulse rounds on Doomfist as he tried to sneak behind shorty. It didn't do much other than eating the entirety of my attack, but it gave enough for Torbjorn to notice him.

"Screw it then!" he shouted, producing his trusty hammer from his back. "DIE!"

He swung left and right while Mercy and me provided supporting fire. None of it was affecting Doomfist. His shields are deflecting his hammer strikes as if Torbjorn was hitting him with a towel. Our enemy strikes back with his dominant hand, but the little guy was too slippery for him.

"Just keep him occupied!" I yelled as I reloaded. I'm at my third bat right now.

"That's not how ye fight!" Torbjorn taunted him as he jerked his head back from a swing. "Lemme show ye!" With his claw, he grabbed his opponent's ankle and pulled. The guy yelped as fell down on the murky water. In a sudden motion, he brought his hand up and I saw it ripple.

It was going to be another microwave blast, but Torbjorn beat him to the punch. He grabbed his wrist with his claw and pulled it away. The blast hit a wall, turning it into a blistering crater. "Where are ye aiming at?!" Torbjorn shouted as he swung his hammer on him while he's down. We took advantage at his precarious position and unloaded everything we have on him.

"Ye do this!" He swung his hammer down. "And this!" He yanked his gauntlet away; the microwave shooting for the sky. "And THIS!" He swung his hammer again. Doomfist tried to kick him away, but Torbjorn only swatted his leg away.

"It's ready!" Gory said.

"Give it to me!" I ordered. Just as I finished my sentence, the rifle glowed again and I began firing automatically, only pausing when it was time to vent the heat.

"Get away from me!" Doomfist shouted all of a sudden. With his other hand, he made a grab for his gauntlet and did something to it. In a blinding flash, we were all knocked back by the unforeseen blast.

+1+ The sources are correct with their assumptions, which is the combination of all the above. Although, they forgot to report about the mass desertions/suicides.

+2+ 'Fused' is not different from a gun jamming, only that it's a term exclusive for energy weapons.

+3+ Like all firearms, plasma rifles tend to wear out for each usage, more so than others even with proper maintenance. This is due to the fact that accelerator coil loses magnetic potency over time, causing the plasma bolt inside the access port to move to where it is unintended, such as the sides. Also, this is why a failsafe, which _fuses_ the access port, is added in the design to prevent the user from firing it further.

+4+ Note that 76 is aware that energy weapons rarely explodes. If the failsafe _fails_ to prevent the user from using the gun, most of the time it overheats. See +3+. If this happens, the gun tends to turn mind-numbingly hot that if not dropped at once (this happens only if the wielder happens to be too courageous /brain-dead/determined/ frightened) it would boil the wielder's skin. Another case is the gun is damaged enough for the capacitor to melt, causing a lightning bolt to escape and strike at the nearest conductor (mostly, the guy holding the gun). And in the very, very, very rare instance that it explodes, it would certainly vaporize the user and the buddy next to him.

+5+ To clarify, pulse weapons shoots individual energized particles. These extremely excited particles sears the air around them, turning it into plasma. This is also why the rounds are mostly bluish white.

+6+ If you want to know how he knows about so much about this, just remember that he was Torbjorn's boss back then.

* * *

I think I was unconscious for minute there. I almost couldn't remember what I was doing, laying there painfully on the cold rocks, until I opened my eyes. The tracer fire and the rocket barrages, the gong of the artillery and the soothing rain on my face. I remembered it quickly, and this motivated me to get up once again.

The first thing I noticed was Torbjorn screaming in pain. At the other side of the tunnel, I could see Torbjorn wailing as he covered his bionic eye. It's as if it was eating him from the inside. His claw limped uselessly on his shoulder. It doesn't take long to realize that both artificial parts were transmitting flickers of shorting electrical failure to his brain.

"Medic!" I shouted, hoping that Angela was still around here somewhere. I checked on my Biotic Emitter, but the thing's busted. "Gory, scan for EMs." He might be nearby.

"I got a positive reading," Gory replied, producing the red diamond again. He's running away!

"H-help!" I heard Angela from afar. I found her arm raised under a hill of concrete, and I hurried to haul her out of it only to find her bruised and cut everywhere. She winced when the rain touched her bleeding skin. "I'm alright."

"Like hell you're-" I stopped myself, shaking my head. "Whatever. I have another patient for you."

"What?" And then she heard Torbjorn crying. "Oh no!" She jumped right into action, but she fell short to her knees when her wings didn't spread. "Stupid piece off…" she mumbled as she dropped her staff and unstrapping her only device of flight. "I'll take care of him." She brought out a first-aid kit, and then looked me in the eye. "Go and finish the job."

Nodding, we both went our separate ways once again. I might never work with them ever again. I might never meet them face to face in the future. The only thing I could do now is to do them a favor and finish the mission, because the mission is what matters to a soldier.

I ran into a few turns inside the concrete crevasse before I saw Doomfist limping away from the fight. There, I let out a stream of fire on his person, hitting the rippling shield still. He turned around from the first shot and fired back with Torbjorn's Rivet Gun. I was knocked back by the blast. Even though my shield took most of the damage, I could feel the unbearable heat from the bullets inches away from my skin.

He was about to cross into another pathway. "Stop running!" I shouted as I launched my Helix Rockets while I'm on my back.

They followed his magnetic aura, but he was already out of sight. My rocket still followed, hitting the wall and caving the tunnel. "Dammit!" I cursed. I just blocked myself!

I ran as soon as I got up, mentally kicking myself for the blunder. Victory is growing farther and farther, and my heart grew weary. All those deaths, those sacrifices would be for nothing if I don't catch him. I'm at my last bat and Gory said that we might not have sufficient power to activate the armor's ability.

My legs felt like it's filled with lead nails and my breathing is getting shallower. It might be because of my hunger or exhaustion, but I need to run nonetheless. I have to reach him. I need to run faster. For the sake of everyone who got hurt and died, I need to run faster.

Hope was rising as the red diamond swelled. At another turn, I saw Doomfist's silhouette as he ran into another intersection. I redoubled my effort, making it my last will. By the time I caught up with him, I aimed my rifle and pulled a burst of shots. He stopped halfway, turning to fire the stolen gun at me. Wising up from last time, I dove onto the water and kept firing from there.

After a few shots, I could hear an audible click from his gun. Screaming in anger, he threw his gun at my direction and ran away again. "You're just going to die tired!" I shouted as the chasing resumed.

It didn't take long for me to close the distance. I slowed down when I found him grunting and cursing as he tried to pull the bars from the floodgate that's blocking him. He could've easily break it away, but the dents on the bars told me that his fist has finally given up on him

Huffing, he slowly turned towards me. I expected that he would look like a cornered mouse, all scared and all. But I think that this is what a cornered mouse would _really_ looks like. Defiant, determined; I wouldn't be surprised that he would take me on even with his bare hands.

"Why?" he spat, giving me jolt. "Why do you do this? This is not your war. You're not from Africa."

I huffed between sentences. "You… you're worth a lot of… cash."

"76!" Gory plead. "Give me the word, now!"

"You're just a disgusting mercenary!" Ufuoma shook his head. "Is this how far greed could carry you? Is the coin enough to repress our justice?"

"You need… a wakeup call. If you hadn't heard, your justice demands you die. Not just from me, but from your own buddies as well." I aimed from my hip. "And if I get paid for doing their jobs, we all win." I chuckled a little. "Well, except you."

"GRAAAAH!" He charged.

I screamed. "Gory, hit it!"

"POWER OVERWHELMING," it chimed.

I pulled the trigger, down and hard. A river of sky-blue balls homed for his chest, but he still kept running for me, his fist winding up a punch. By the time he was near enough for me to see the color of his eyes, his shield flickered and died. He got struck down in a geyser of blood. Even when I knew that he was no longer with the living, I kept shooting at his cooling corpse.

* * *

Groggy and leaden, it took a little while before I noticed someone was shaking my shoulder, and it wasn't from the APC wobbling this time. "Jack," Angela soothingly called me from my slumber. "Jack, we're here."

"Can you guys please refrain from speaking my real name," I said, yawning from my seat. I was about to wipe my visor, but I forgot that I removed it earlier. Using it for days would be bad for me after all +1+. From the small frontal windows, I was in time to see the sun setting from the beach. I can never get enough of the soft orange hue in the horizon, but my heart aches because it reminds too much of home.

"You think I'm stupid enough to let any wires in my ride?" asked Torbjorn annoyingly from the driver's seat. He handled the wheel with only one arm. The other is only an empty metal socket. I wish he would let me drive the damn carrier because he only has one working eye and the other is another empty socket. He kept squinting time and again in order to adjust his depth perception.

"It's not that," I countered. "It's the principle of it."

"But it's nice from to time to forget you're on the run, right Jack?" Angela said with a slight smile. In any other day, I might cry seeing her hurt like this. Yet, even multiples bandages on her face and neck, she looks glowing +2+.

That said, I just sighed at her response. "I… don't want to be called Jack. For now, I just don't deserve to be called by my real name."

"Ha!" chortled Torbjorn. "That's not even yer real name! Whatever. Try not to guilt yourself by then!"

"That doesn't matter," Angela said, her eyes focused on the sun setting. "You'll come back to us someday."

"Don't worry, sir!" Gory chimed in. "I'll keep calling you 76."

"Huh, thanks," I replied with a chuckle.

"What?" Angela asked, and then she quickly understood. "Oh, I get. Can you install a speaker on that thing, Torbjorn?"

"Dealing with that armor is trouble enough as it is. I'm sure _Jack_ could attach one if he needs to." I bit back my retort. The APC stopped in front of the white beach. "Okay, get out. Out!"

We all exited the vehicle and stood at the wake of the swinging water. The ocean sounds, the squawk of seagulls, and the sea breeze and heat on our face… We just… stood there. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. It was like a dream. It was like the things we've done for weeks never happened.

It was… nice. At the same time, it was too painful, because in my heart, these kinds of moments would long be gone from my life. You could never expect how you love the things you have unless it was taken away from you. I wiped my tears away before they could see them and called my mini-sub from my visor.

By the time I finished pressing my commands, Torbjorn coughed for attention. We both looked at him. He scratched his beard, acting all innocent. "Ye know… it's been a year now since… everything broke down. If you gave the word, I could call a few friends, get a new base-"

"I'm not initiating Recall, Torb," I said. "And aren't you supposed to be hunting black markets for your tech? I mean, you got free time from being fired and everything."

"Eh, I'll just build a better arsenal!" he deflected with a hearty laugh.

I shook my head. "The PETRAS Act wouldn't be so lenient with us reforming."

The shorty scoffed. "Screw the PETRAS Act! It's not like a piece of paper can stop us."

"We'll just have to do things covertly," Angela suggested.

"We can't maintain operations without funding," I countered. "We had the whole world backing us back then."

"But there are a lot of sympathizers. I could name a bunch; some are very close friends of mine."

"And I know the perfect place to build our base," Torbjorn offered. "We'll all have to work from the ground up though. All three of us."

The two looked at me expectantly. Maybe we could get away with this, but… "That's a nice thought. But we're not ready yet." They both let down their heads. "There's too many complications, too many factors." I turned to them. "But when we do initiate Recall, we'll turn this show around. From the ground up, right?"

They both nodded. "I guess that's something to think about," Torbjorn said. He jerked his head to the ocean. "There's yer ride."

Sighing at the sight of my mini-sub resurfacing, I was about to wade my way there until Angela called me. "Jack! Wait!"

I turned around to see her waving me to come closer. Wiping the sweat from my face, I walked back to her. When I got near, she grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into a kiss. I don't know how long we stayed in that position, but it felt so short when we pulled back. This too, I missed. When every lovely thing is so scarce, you can't help but see the importance of it. We were both blushing like crazy.

Her blue eyes sparkling, she then said, "You are to keep your promise, right?"

I held her hand and squeezed it gently. "Have I ever backed down to one?"

Torbjorn coughed again, looking away. "Coast guard might come any time. I'll take the missus to the airport."

I nodded. "You better." Letting go of her hand, I moved to my escape vehicle. Before I left, I shouted at them, "We'll be seeing each other again!" They both shouting their own goodbyes even as I entered into the cockpit. Angela was shouting about my visiting her, and Torbjorn was shouting about taking care of Gory. I almost couldn't tear my eyes from the two, but when I did, I felt rather relieved.

"Where are we going this time, 76?" Gory asked as I turned my sub around.

"First, I have to introduce you to a good friend of mine."

FIN

+1+ Overexposure to the Tactical Visor is as dangerous as overexposure to TV. Plus, he's starting to value of the health of his eyes.

+2+ Even with the wonders of medical technology nowadays, Dr. Ziegler believes that natural recovery is the best treatment for anyone.


End file.
